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SAGE 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OP 
CALIFORNIA 
SAN  DIEGO 


822  01277  7595 

fHE  UNIVERSE  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  -OF  CALIFORNIA,  SAN  DIEGO 
MIA,  CALIFORNIA' 


H>ajje 


ROBERT  TOURNAY.  A  Romance  of  the  French  Rev 
olution.  Illustrated.  Crown  8vo,  $1.50. 

THE  CLAYBORNES.  A  Story  of  the  Civil  War.  With 
a  Frontispiece.  Crown  8vo,  $1.50. 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  CO. 
BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK. 


•DO  YOU  PROMISE  SOLEMNLY?"  SHE  INQUIRED  (Page  9') 


THE  CLAYBORNES 

0.  Romance  of  ttyt  Cttoil 


BY 


WILLIAM  SAGE 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 

C!>r  SRtberStte  ^9re^,  Cambrtirge 

1902 


COPYRIGHT,  1902,  BY  WILLIAM  SAGE 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


Published  April,  7902 


TO  MY  FRIEND 

HERBERT  SANFORD  CARPENTER 
I  DEDICATE  THIS  BOOK 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTBB  PAOB 

I.  THE  CLAYBORNE  BLOOD 1 

II.  REGINA  BOWIE 20 

III.  THE  CLAYBOKNE  HORSE 31 

IV.  REGINA'S  TOAST 51 

V.  A  HOT  RIDE  AFTER  GRANT      ....  77 

VI.  MARJORIE  WARE 84 

VII.  IN  THE  CHINA-CLOSET 93 

VIII.  A  SUDDEN  PARTING 107 

IX.  A  FEW  OLD  LETTERS 114 

X.  BENJAMIN  CHESTERFIELD,  NON-COMBATANT  127 

XI.   CHESTERFIELD'S  CAPTIVE 148 

XII.  A  LETTER  FROM  THE  FRONT        .        .        .  166 

XIII.  THE  PRISONER  ON  THE  RIVER  QUEEN     .        .  168 

XIV.  A  WOMAN  is  AN  AWKWARD  PRISONER       .  181 
XV.  THE  RIVER  QUEEN'S  BOILER    .        .        .        .  200 

XVI.    IN   VlCKSBURG   AND   OUT             .           .           .           .  218 

XVII.  ULYSSES  TAKES  HIS  TROY         ....  238 

XVIII.   BEFORE  THE  COURT        .....  249 

XIX.  LOVE  AND  DOUBT       .        .        ...        .        .  264 

XX.   A  VOLUME  OF  EMERSON        ....  282 

XXI.  THE  HOUSE  AT  THE  CROSS-ROADS   .        .        .  289 

XXII.  MARJORIE  WARE  AND  REGINA  BOWIE         .  306 

XXIII.  RICHMOND   .        .        .        ,        .        .        .        .322 

XXIV.  AT  THE  STONE  BRIDGE          .        ...  335 
XXV.  THE  TENANTS  OF  THE  CROSS-ROADS        .        .  345 

XXVI.  FOUR  STURDY  KNAVES  .....  359 

XXVII.   THE  LAST  OF  THE  CLAYBORNE  HORSE  .        .  374 

XXVIII.   THE  CLAYBORNE  BROTHERS  ....  388 

XXIX.  A  THIRD  OF  A  CENTURY  LATER                       .  400 


THE  CLAYBORNES 


CHAPTER  I 

THE    CLAYBOKNE    BLOOD 

A  YOUNG  woman  sat  at  the  piano  playing  a 
martial  air.  Under  the  touch  of  her  white  hand 
the  instrument  spoke.  It  told  of  the  glory  of  war, 
the  grandeur  and  crash  of  the  battle,  of  the  in 
trepid  charge  and  the  valiant  defense  ;  it  told  of 
conquest  and  honor,  of  the  laurel  wreath;  the 
triumph  of  victory.  The  color  rose  high  to  the 
woman's  cheek  and  her  eyes  flashed  with  the  fire 
and  enthusiasm  of  youth.  She  put  her  spirit  into 
the  music  and  it  stirred  the  blood  and  thrilled  the 
pulse  of  the  man  who  stood  near  her.  The  music 
had  no  note  of  discord  or  death,  of  disease  or 
famine ;  of  homes  made  desolate  and  hearts  wrung 
with  anguish  and  misery ;  for  the  player  was 
young  and  full  of  life  and  beauty.  The  man  who 
listened  did  not  hear  the  moan  of  the  wounded, 
the  cry  of  the  destitute,  for  he  was  rich  in  the 
strength  and  courage  and  hope  of  youth. 

"What  do  you  think  of  that,   Clifford  Clay- 


2  THE  CLAYBORNES 

borne?"  exclaimed  the  girl,  turning  upon  her 
chair.  "  Could  you  march  to  that  music  ?  " 

"I  could  follow  that  music  to  the  end  of  the 
world,  Regina,"  was  the  quick  rejoinder. 

In  playful  challenge  the  girl's  finger  ran  again 
over  the  keys,  sending  forth  an  inspiring  march  ; 
while  she  looked  over  her  shoulder  at  Clifford,  — 
dashing  Clifford  Clayborne,  who  always  had  a 
soft  word  for  a  woman  and  an  open  hand  for  a 
friend. 

It  was  in  Richmond  in  the  spring  of  '61.  The 
news  of  the  fall  of  Sumter  was  ringing  through 
the  land.  The  South,  with  all  its  ardor  and  fiery 
zeal,  was  arming  itself  for  the  coming  fray.  The 
North,  set  on  fire  by  the  guns  from  South  Caro 
lina,  was  rallying  to  defend  the  national  flag.  The 
Rebellion  had  begun. 

It  raged  fiercely  in  the  bosom  of  Regina  Bowie ; 
it  shone  in  her  eyes,  it  tingled  to  the  very  tips  of 
her  fingers  as  they  struck  out  notes  of  defiance  to 
the  North.  Had  she  been  her  father's  son,  Colo 
nel  Bowie  would  have  had  a  son  outrivaling  him 
in  hot  impetuous  zeal  for  the  cause. 

Colonel  John  Bowie,  a  native  of  South  Caro 
lina,  had  come  to  Virginia  three  years  before  the 
outbreak  of  the  war.  He  had  taken  up  his  resi 
dence  as  the  neighbor  of  his  friend,  Judge  Clay- 
borne,  whom  he  had  known  in  boyhood.  Bowie, 
one  of  the  hottest-headed  fire-eating  men  in  all  the 
South,  had  been  persistent  in  his  cry  for  "  slavery 
and  no  compromise,"  "  secession  and  fight." 


THE  CLAYBORNE  BLOOD  3 

Judge  Clayborne,  however,  had  been  one  of  the 
cooler  heads,  who,  on  the  floor  of  the  Virginia 
Legislature,  held  the  State  for  the  Union  until  the 
final  die  was  thrown.  But  when  Virginia  cast  in 
her  lot  with  the  seceding  States,  Bowie  held  out 
his  hand  to  his  lifelong  comrade.  "  Now,  Clay- 
borne,  where  do  you  stand  ?  " 

"  With  you  to  the  death,  John  Bowie,"  cried 
Clayborne,  and  he  meant  it  too,  as  his  fingers 
closed  over  the  colonel's  hand. 

"  I  knew  we  could  count  on  you  when  the  time 
came,  Joe.  We  've  had  many  a  hot  argument, 
and  you  've  often  made  me  mad.  But  I  knew 
you  were  true  as  steel,  or,  damn  me,  I  'd  have  dis 
owned  you." 

"  John,  old  fellow,  the  time  for  argument  is 
past.  I've  done  my  best  to  have  the  South  do 
what  was  wisest.  The  majority  have  overruled 
me ;  but  the  Claybornes  from  father  to  son,  from 
the  earliest  times,  have  lived  in  Virginia ;  they 
are  part  of  its  soil,  and,  sir,  the  Claybornes  will 
fight  for  Virginia.  I  've  got  two  boys,  Colonel, 
and  by  gad,  sir,  you  '11  see  us  three  together  in 
defense  of  the  sacred  soil  of  our  State.  Shoulder 
to  shoulder  the  Claybornes  fight,  shoulder  to  shoul 
der  the  Claybornes  stand  or  fall !  " 

"  Give  me  your  hand  once  more,  Joe  Clayborne. 
You  make  my  heart  warm  towards  you  more  than 
it  has  for  years.  Let  us  take  a  drink  to  the  suc 
cess  of  the  Southern  Confederacy  and  then  we  '11 
go  and  talk  over  the  matter  of  recruiting,  for  you 
must  have  a  regiment." 


4  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  And  my  son  Gordon,"  exclaimed  Judge  Clay- 
borne,  as  the  two  friends  set  down  their  glasses  on 
the  bar ;  "  I  want  him  to  have  a  good  command. 
Gordon  is  like  me,  Colonel ;  he  was  opposed  to  the 
policy  of  secession,  but  now  that  we  are  in  for  it, 
and  the  honor  of  Virginia  is  at  stake,  he  '11  be  red- 
hot  for  war." 

"  By  gad,  he  shall  have  a  good  command,  Joe. 
He  's  a  West  Pointer.  He 's  a  man  we  need.  He 
shall  have  a  captaincy  at  once.  You  must  have 
him  in  your  regiment.  I  am  to  be  a  brigadier- 
general  ;  I  got  my  commission  from  the  Confeder 
ate  Congress  last  week,  but  I  did  not  tell  you  then 
because  I  wanted  to  wait  until  Virginia  was  un 
equivocally  with  us." 

"  Well,  Virginia  has  made  her  position  known, 
John,  and  I  mine.  We  are  all  with  you  to  the 
end." 

"  God  bless  you,  old  friend,"  replied  Bowie. 
"  Come,  let  us  discuss  the  important  problem  of 
raising  and  arming  troops." 

"  Has  any  one  seen  my  son  Gordon  ?  "  inquired 
Clayborne  of  a  knot  of  gentlemen  who  stood  in 
animated  discussion  in  front  of  the  convention 
hall. 

"  I  saw  him  riding  off  down  the  street  about 
half  an  hour  ago,  judge.  I  reckon  he  's  gone  off 
to  spread  the  news." 

"  Thank  you,  Major  Mattheson.  He 's  gone  off 
home  to  tell  his  brother  Clifford,  and  we  '11  find 
the  boys  with  the  campaign  all  laid  out  and  the 


THE  CLAYBORNE  BLOOD  5 

Yankees  all  whipped  before  night.  Let  us  enter 
into  the  fight  with  the  same  spirit  as  that  of  the 
youngsters." 

Lieutenant  Gordon  Clayborne,  of  the  United 
States  Army,  had  graduated  at  West  Point  two 
years  before,  and  during  this  first  period  of  his 
career  he  had  seen  rough  service  upon  the  plains 
and  on  the  border  of  Mexico.  He  was  now  at 
home  upon  the  first  leave  of  absence  granted  him 
since  he  had  put  on  the  uniform  and  sworn  alle 
giance  to  the  stars  and  stripes. 

Lieutenant  Clayborne,  deeply  stirred  by  the 
momentous  epoch  in  history  which  had  that  day 
occurred,  rode  towards  the  family  mansion,  not 
fast  and  furious,  to  be  the  first  to  bring  the  news 
to  the  household,  but  at  a  much  slower  pace  than 
usual,  with  thoughtful  mien  and  an  expression  of 
care  upon  his  face. 

The  announcement  that  the  great  State  of  Vir 
ginia  had  actually  cast  off  her  allegiance  to  the 
Union  and  had  thrown  her  prestige  and  power 
with  the  Confederacy  was  received  throughout  the 
city  with  the  wildest  enthusiasm.  Upon  every 
side  the  news  was  being  spread.  Bells  were  ring 
ing,  cannons  were  sounding,  and  people  were  as 
sembling  amid  excitement  and  rejoicing. 

As  Gordon  drew  near  his  home,  he  found  that 
the  news  had  preceded  him,  and  he  met  young 
Pendleton  riding  away.  The  latter  reined  up  his 
foam-flecked  horse. 

"  I  've  told  Clifford.   He 's  coming  to  the  meeting 


6  THE  CLAYBORNES 

to-night  and  says  he'll  bring  you  along.  Ke- 
gina  Bowie  is  in  there.  She  says  she  will  make  a 
banner  for  the  first  regiment  of  horse.  She  is  an 
amazon  to  be  proud  of.  Going  to  be  at  the  muster, 
Gordon  ?  Good-by,  old  man."  And  without  stop 
ping  for  any  reply,  the  breathless  Pendleton  waved 
his  hand  and  galloped  away  on  his  pony. 

Gordon  rode  up  the  driveway  to  the  door  of  his 
father's  handsome  house.  It  was  towards  the  close 
of  a  beautiful  spring  day.  Across  the  green  lawn 
lay  the  long  shadows  of  the  afternoon,  the  robins 
were  piping  their  mellow  evening  notes,  and  the 
slanting  rays  of  the  sun  were  shining  in  through 
the  large  windows  of  the  generous  mansion.  A 
soft  breeze  rustled  the  lace  curtains  and  as  they 
parted  he  could  see  his  brother  Clifford  standing 
near  the  piano  while  Regina  played. 

To  the  sound  of  the  triumphal  music  Gordon 
entered  the  house  and  went  upstairs  to  his  room. 

The  room  was  a  study  shared  by  the  two 
brothers.  At  one  end  stood  the  shelves  with  the 
books  which  they  had  studied  and  read  together. 
At  the  other  was  an  arsenal  of  rifles  and  fowling- 
pieces,  hunting-knives  and  pistols.  There  was  the 
fly-rod  with  which  Clifford  had  caught  his  first 
trout.  There  was  the  rifle  with  which  Gordon  had 
shot  his  first  deer. 

Upon  the  wall  at  each  side  of  the  fireplace  hung 
a  portrait.  One  was  of  their  father  ;  the  dark 
curly  hair,  the  slender  nose,  the  proud  curved  lip, 
were  Clayborne  features.  The  sweet-faced  woman 


THE  CLAYBORNE  BLOOD  7 

upon  the  opposite  side  was  their  mother.  Joseph 
Clayborne  had  found  in  New  England  the  woman 
who  became  his  wife.  The  young  Southerner  had 
been  sent  to  Europe  to  put  a  final  polish  to  his 
education.  After  spending  two  years  abroad  he 
returned  to  his  own  country,  making  a  visit  with 
friends  of  his  family  in  Boston.  Young  Joseph 
was  a  gallant  gentleman  at  this  time,  fresh  from 
the  life  in  the  gay  capitals  of  Europe.  He  excited 
curiosity,  interest,  and  finally  love  in  the  breast  of 
the  young  puritan  maid.  And  on  his  side  the 
heart  which  had  proved  invulnerable  to  the  charms 
of  both  French  and  English  beauties  was  soon  at 
the  feet  of  this  prim  little  New  England  rose.  The 
cavalier  and  the  puritan  were  united.  Clayborne 
transplanted  his  delicate  flower  from  the  rocky 
soil  of  the  East  to  the  luxuriant  land  of  Virginia. 

Mrs.  Clayborne  had  been  a  devoted  wife,  living 
in  the  aspirations  and  ambitions  of  her  husband. 
Her  delicate  body  had  not  caused  her  to  shrink  from 
the  responsibilities  which  such  a  life  entailed.  She 
had  stood  to  the  task  nobly.  The  slaves  they  owned 
were  so  many  human  souls  committed  to  her  care. 
To  look  after  their  welfare,  moral  and  physical, 
was  to  her  a  solemn  duty.  If  they  were  sick,  she 
ministered  to  them,  if  their  feet  strayed  from  the 
path  of  virtue,  she  tried  to  set  them  right.  Slavery 
was  a  heavy  burden  for  such  as  Mrs.  Clayborne. 
Bravely  she  bore  it  until  it  killed  her. 

Into  this  beautiful  face  Gordon  looked  long  and 
earnestly ;  from  it  his  eyes  turned  to  his  father's 


8  THE  CLAYBORNES 

virile,  animated  countenance.  Then  he  walked 
through  the  apartment  into  his  brother's  bed 
chamber  and  back  into  his  own  room  with  a  quick, 
nervous  tread. 

"Clifford,"  exclaimed  Regina  in  the  drawing- 
room  beneath,  "  is  not  that  Gordon  upstairs  ?  I 
wonder  why  he  did  not  come  in  here  and  tell  us 
the  latest  news." 

"  I  did  not  hear  him  enter  the  house,"  was  the 
reply. 

"  Neither  did  I,  but  I  know  his  step,  and  that  is 
it  on  the  floor  above." 

"  I  will  see  if  it  is  he,  and  find  out  why  he  did 
not  come  into  the  drawing-room,"  and  Clifford  ran 
swiftly  upstairs. 

"  Gordon ! "  he  exclaimed  as  he  entered  the 
room.  "  What  is  the  matter.  Are  you  ill  ?  " 

"  No,  I  am  quite  well,  Clifford." 

"  But  your  face  has  such  a  strange  disturbed 
look.  Has  anything  happened  to  father?  " 

«  No,  Clifford." 

"  But  I  never  saw  you  look  like  this  before ; 
you  look  five  years  older  than  you  did  yesterday. 
Look  at  your  face  in  the  glass,  man." 

The  two  young  men  were  much  alike  and  re 
sembled  their  father.  They  had  the  same  dark 
curly  hair  and  white  brow,  the  same  frank  open 
countenance.  A  little  more  than  two  years  sepa 
rated  them  in  age.  Gordon  was  somewhat  heavier 
than  Clifford,  and  taller,  his  chin  was  more  deter 
mined,  and  at  times,  his  eyes  wore  a  serious  expres- 


THE  CLAYBORNE  BLOOD  9 

sion  which  never  came  to  Clifford's  face.  Clifford's 
spirits  were  always  like  the  air  he  breathed.  He 
never  knew  melancholy.  He  was  as  gallant  as 
Mars,  with  that  courage  which  ignores  danger  be 
cause  it  does  not  know  fear.  His  respect  for  the 
"  code  "  and  his  belief  in  "  righting  a  wrong  where 
it  is  given  "  had  taken  him  more  than  once  on  to 
the  "  field  of  honor."  Strange  to  say,  he  was  a 
villainously  poor  shot,  and  so  his  adversaries  had 
come  off  scathless  ;  and  as  for  Clifford  himself,  a 
protecting  Providence  seems  to  have  watched  over 
the  boy,  and  save  for  a  bullet  hole  through  his 
coat  and  a  small  scratch  on  the  arm,  his  duels  had 
been  bloodless. 

"  For  the  Lord's  sake,  Gordon, "  cried  Clifford, 
as  the  former  threw  himself  into  an  armchair, 
"  what  has  come  over  you  ?  I  thought  you  would 
come  home  all  afire,  and  you  are  as  cold  and  taci 
turn  as  a  mummy.  I  've  been  at  work  all  the 
morning  getting  names  for  a  company.  The  girls 
are  at  work  on  a  banner  to  be  given  to  the  first 
complete  organization.  We  '11  go  to  the  meeting  in 
the  hall  to-night.  You  11  get  a  commission  the 
first  thing.  Lord,  but  I  wish  I  had  your  experi 
ence,  Gordon,"  rattled  the  younger  brother  as  he 
sat  on  the  edge  of  the  table. 

"  I  'm  not  going  to  the  meeting  to-night,"  said 
Gordon  quietly. 

"Not  going!  "  cried  his  brother,  springing  to  the 
floor  in  his  astonishment ;  "  why  you  '11  miss  your 
chance  of  getting  one  of  the  first  commissions. 


10  THE  CLAYBORNES 

You  are  certain  to  be  made  a  captain  at  once,  and 
perhaps  a  major." 

"  I  could  not  accept  such  a  commission,  Clifford." 

The  younger  man  could  not  find  words  to  speak. 

"  You  know  right  well,"  the  elder  brother  con 
tinued,  speaking  in  a  low  voice,  "  that  I  am  an 
officer  in  the  United  States  Army." 

"  There  are  no  United  States,"  cried  Clifford. 

"  There  is  a  Federal  Army." 

"  How  does  that  concern  you  ?  General  Twigg 

gave  all  the  officers  of  the regiment  leave  of 

absence,  expecting  they  would  go  to  their  homes 
and  give  their  services  to  the  Confederacy." ' 

"I  cannot  judge  of  General  Twigg's  motives. 
I  have  just  received  an  order  from  the  War  De 
partment  to  report  at  Washington." 

"  And  you  are  going  to  obey  it  ?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  obey  it." 

"  Well,  damn  me,  Gordon !  " 

"  Clifford,"  said  his  brother,  "  you  know  I  have 
been  opposed  to  secession.  I  have  often  spoken 
against  it  publicly  and  privately,  but  apart  from 
that,  I  have  taken  a  solemn  oath  of  allegiance  to 
the  United  States.  Would  you  have  me  break 
that  oath?" 

"  If  necessary,  yes,"  cried  Clifford  vehemently  ; 
"  but  it  is  not  necessary.  T? he  oath  is  no  longer 
binding." 

"  It  holds  me." 

"  Then  break  it,  Gordon.  You  are  in  duty 
bound  to  break  it  into  a  thousand  pieces." 


THE  CLAYBORNE  BLOOD  11 

"  Tell  me,  Clifford,"  and  there  was  a  note  of 
deep  earnestness  in  the  elder  man's  voice,  "  have 
I  ever  said  or  done  anything  to  make  you  think  I 
would  alter  my  convictions  ?  " 

Clifford  struggled  to  suppress  the  tumult  which 
his  brother's  words  aroused  within  him.  He  tried 
to  answer  slowly  and  with  coherence.  "You  have 
opposed  secession,  yes  ;  so  has  father,  so  have  many 
other  Southern  gentlemen,  but  now  the  time  for 
argument  has  passed.  Virginia  has  seceded  and 
we  must  go  with  our  State.  Before  Heaven,  Gor 
don,  I  never  dreamed  that  when  the  crucial  mo 
ment  came  you  would  act  otherwise." 

"  Clifford,  old  man,  I  have  thought  the  matter 
all  out  in  my  own  mind.  I  have  struggled  —  oh, 
my  dear  boy,  you  can't  realize  how  I  have  strug 
gled,  but  I  have  always  come  out  at  the  same  end 
ing  :  I  was  educated  at  West  Point.  I  have  taken 
an  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  Government.  I  must 
not  violate  it." 

"  By  God,  sir,  I  would  violate  it  if  it  came  in 
conflict  with  my  duty  to  my  State." 

"  Well,  I  cannot,  I  cannot !  " 

Clifford  burst  forth  furiously. 

"  Can  you  forget  what  our  family  is  and  what 
are  its  traditions  ?  Can  you  see  those  of  your  own 
blood  going  to  the  front  to  do  their  duty  as  men, 
and  not  be  stirred  to  strike  one  blow  for  the  State 
we  love  ?  Gordon  !  Think  for  a  moment  what 
will  be  said  of  you,  of  us  —  I  cannot  bear  it.  I 
had  rather  see  you  dead  at  my  feet." 


12  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  And  our  country,  Clifford,  which  as  boys  we 
were  taught  to  love,  —  shall  we  strike  at  her  ?  Do 
you  remember  how  as  boys  we  pored  over  the 
pages  of  history,  glorying  in  the  brave  deeds  of 
our  war  of  independence  ?  The  heroes  of  those  days 
shed  their  blood  for  a  united  country,  not  for  a 
part  of  it.  The  work  of  those  great  men  who 
framed  the  Constitution,  who  gave  their  brains, 
their  fortunes,  and  their  lives  in  the  building  of  a 
nation,  gave  them  for  a  whole  nation,  not  for  Vir 
ginia  alone.  We  are  descended  from  some  of  those 
heroes,  Clifford,  and  we  owe  our  first  allegiance  to 
the  country  which  is  our  heritage  from  them,  —  not 
to  one  section  of  it.  No,  not  even  to  Virginia  — 
God  bless  her !  " 

"  Yes,  God  bless  her !  and  it  is  to  her  we  owe 
our  nearest  allegiance,"  said  Clifford,  "  and  we  will 
fight  under  her  flag." 

Shouts  and  cheering  were  heard  from  the  square 
in  front  of  their  house.  Gordon  put  his  hand 
affectionately  upon  his  brother's  shoulder,  and  to 
gether  they  walked  toward  the  window.  Clifford's 
brow  was  knitted  and  the  emotions  which  he  en 
deavored  to  control  showed  themselves  upon  his 
mobile  face. 

A  large  crowd  had  assembled  in  the  square. 
From  the  flagstaff  in  the  centre  a  United  States 
flag  was  still  flying  proudly.  Even  as  the  brothers 
looked  some  one  pulled  upon  the  ropes  and  the 
flag  came  rapidly  down,  falling  upon  the  ground 
at  the  man's  feet.  There  was  a  momentary  silence, 


THE  CLAYBORNE  BLOOD  13 

then  amid  frantic  cheers  another  flag  rose  in  its 
place. 

"  I  have  saluted  the  old  flag  so  often,  Clifford, 
that  it  wrenches  my  heart  to  see  them  take  it 
down.  That  is  the  flag  we  have  both  been  taught 
to  love.  Father  used  to  teach  us  to  cheer  it  when 
we  were  tiny  boys.  Can  we  forget  that  it  is  the 
same  flag  that  Washington  carried  with  him  to 
Valley  Forge  in  the  hour  of  darkness,  or  which 
waved  at  Yorktown  in  the  hour  of  triumph  ?  Can 
we  forget  that  it  is  the  flag  which  enfolded  the 
brave  Lawrence  as  he  lay  dead  upon  the  Chesa 
peake?  Are  we  to  trample  it  beneath  our  feet 
now?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Clifford  hotly,  "  since  the  North 
has  forced  the  issue  —  upon  them  the  shame. 
Virginia  will  be  true  to  herself." 

"  And  I  must  be  true  to  myself,"  replied  Gordon 
with  equal  warmth. 

"  Think  what  will  be  said  of  you,"  cried  Clif 
ford.  "  Men  will  call  you  a  Yankee,  a  coward, 
an  Abolitionist,  and  I  shall  hang  my  head  with 
shame.  I  cannot  bear  it." 

"You  forget  that  our  mother  came  from  New 
England,  Clifford." 

"  Yes,  but  she  married  a  Southern  gentleman." 

«  Am  I  a  coward,  Clifford  ?  " 

"  I  should  like  to  see  the  man  who  would  call  a 
Clayborne  a  coward  in  my  presence,"  replied  his 
brother  defiantly. 

"  Am  I  an  Abolitionist  ?  " 


14  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  No,  thank  Heaven,  you  are  not  that.  However 
absurd,  however  fanatical  your  opinion  in  regard 
to  the  Union,  you  are  no  Abolitionist."  Clifford 
stormed  up  and  down  the  room.  "  It  is  the  Aboli 
tionists  who  are  the  cause  of  the  war,"  he  ex 
claimed  bitterly,  "they  will  prolong  slavery  a 
hundred  years.  It  is  their  intolerance  which  has 
forced  the  South  into  her  position.  Why  could 
they  not  leave  us  alone  with  our  slavery?  If  it  is 
a  curse,  it  is  our  curse,  not  theirs  !  " 

In  his  excited  march  he  stumbled  over  a  valise 
which  lay  half  concealed  on  the  floor,  near  the 
table.  "  What  the  devil !  "  he  cried,  looking  down 
to  see  what  had  tripped  him.  Then  recovering  him 
self  he  said  with  forced  calmness,  "  Gordon,  you 
have  already  been  packing  to  go  away  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  When  are  you  going  ?  " 

"  To-morrow  morning." 

"  You  shall  not  go.  You  shall  not  fight  for  the 
Abolitionists !  " 

"  I  have  got  to  obey  orders." 

With  blazing  eyes  Clifford  confronted  his 
brother.  "  That  you  shall  not  do ! "  he  cried 
excitedly.  "  You  shall  never  be  a  traitor." 

Gordon's  face  flushed.  "  Do  not  use  that  term. 
I  can  bear  much  from  you  with  patience,  but  not 
that." 

"  I  would  to  Heaven  it  were  not  so,  but  I  shall 
speak  the  truth.  If  you  are  a  traitor,  you  must 
become  accustomed  to  the  name." 


THE  CLAYBORNE  BLOOD  15 

"  Clifford !  "  cried  Gordon,  seizing  his  brother 
by  the  arms. 

"  Take  your  hands  off,  traitor !  " 

"  Not  until  you  unsay  that  word." 

Clifford's  only  answer  was  to  struggle  to  break 
his  brother's  hold,  breathing  quickly  through  his 
clenched  teeth. 

"  Take  back  that  word  and  I  will  let  you  go." 

"  You  are  stronger  than  I,"  panted  Clifford ; 
"  you  are  stronger,  and  you  use  your  strength  like 
a  coward." 

"  Go !  "  said  Gordon,  pushing  Clifford  from 
him  —  "  go  before  I  hurt  you." 

"  You  shall  not  leave  this  house  yet,  Gordon 
Clayborne,"  cried  Clifford.  "You  shall  not  dis 
grace  our  name  while  I  live." 

As  he  spoke  thus  in  great  excitement,  he  ran 
to  the  cupboard  and  drew  down  a  box,  which  he 
placed  upon  the  centre  of  the  table  with  a  bang. 

"  The  side  which  you  have  chosen  pits  brother 
against  brother,"  he  said  hoarsely  ;  "so  be  it,  but 
let  the  fight  begin  here  and  now,"  and  he  took 
from  the  box  a  pair  of  old-fashioned  dueling 
pistols. 

"  Clifford,  are  you  mad  ?  What  would  you 
do?" 

"  Protect  the  honor  of  my  name  and  of  yours, 
Gordon  Clayborne,  for  either  you  will  fight  me 
here  in  this  room,  or  you  will  give  up  your  purpose 
to  join  the  North." 

"  Clifford,  put  up  those  pistols !  " 


16  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"Will  you  fight?" 

"No!" 

Clifford  went  to  the  door,  locked  it,  and  threw 
the  key  on  the  floor.  He  was  deadly  pale.  Tak 
ing  the  pistols  from  their  case,  he  laid  them  upon 
the  table. 

"  By  God,  you  shall  fight,  sir,"  cried  Clifford 
passionately  ;  "  you  shall  fight,  or  be  a  coward  as 
well  as  a  traitor." 

With  a  bound  the  elder  sprang  across  the  room 
and  caught  the  younger  brother  by  the  arms.  They 
struggled  together  violently  for  a  few  moments, 
their  anger  rising  to  white  heat ;  Gordon,  stronger 
than  Clifford,  was  bending  him  to  the  floor. 

"  Coward,  coward  !  "  panted  the  latter  through 
his  teeth ;  "  coward  and  traitor !  " 

Gordon,  his  Clay  borne  blood  surging  hot  with 
passion,  threw  his  brother  from  him.  "Damn 
you,  Clifford,  if  you  will  have  it,  I'll  fight  you 
now." 

"  I  will  have  it,  Gordon,"  replied  Clifford,  draw 
ing  a  deep  breath. 

From  his  brother's  passionate  face,  Gordon's 
eye  chanced  to  rest  on  the  portrait  of  their  mother, 
and  he  controlled  his  own  anger  suddenly. 

"  Clifford,  a  duel  at  such  short  range  means 
death  to  both  of  us." 

"  Better  death  to  both  than  dishonor  to  either," 
was  the  reply. 

"  So  be  it,"  exclaimed  Gordon,  and  taking  up 
the  pistols  he  proceeded  to  load  them. 


THE  CLAYBORNE  BLOOD  17 

Clifford  stood  near  the  door  with  arms  folded, 
struggling  to  appear  master  of  himself. 

"  Will  you  count,  or  shall  I  ?  "  he  asked  huskily. 

Gordon,  who  was  now  cool  and  self-possessed, 
walked  across  the  room  to  a  large  old-fashioned 
clock  that  stood  in  the  corner.  Turning  the  min*- 
ute  hand  until  it  pointed  within  a  few  moments  of 
six,  he  replied :  "  At  the  last  stroke  of  the  hour 
we  will  fire." 

"  Very  well,"  bowed  Clifford  in  assent,  and  took 
up  his  position  by  the  door. 

Gordon  stepped  to  the  farther  end  of  the  room. 
The  brothers  faced  each  other  with  a  scant  seven 
paces  between  them. 

"  I  declare  to  you,  Gordon,  upon  my  soul,"  cried 
Clifford,  "  I  would  gladly  stand  here  unarmed  and 
receive  your  fire,  if  by  so  doing  I  could  turn  you 
from  your  purpose." 

"  My  purpose  is  unalterable,  Clifford." 

The  pistols  were  leveled. 

One!  The  perspiration  stood  on  Clifford's  fore 
head.  His  hand  shook.  "  Damn  you,  Gordon, 
you  're  as  cool  as  ice." 

Two!  Clifford  straightened  himself  and  com 
pressed  his  lips* 

The  clock  continued  to  strike  in  slow,  deep- 
toned,  musical  notes. 

Three! 

Four ! 

Five! 

Six! 


18  THE  CLAYBORNES 

There  was  a  blinding  discharge  of  flame  and 
smoke  with  a  crash  that  awoke  the  echoes  of  the 
old  house  and  shook  the  windows  in  their  case 
ments.  As  the  smoke  lifted,  and  began  to  drift 
through  the  open  window,  it  disclosed  Clifford 
standing  mute  and  horror-stricken,  while  Gordon 
leaned  against  a  chair,  a  mark  of  burnt  powder 
above  his  temple.  With  a  cry  Clifford  sprang 
forward  and  caught  his  brother  in  his  arms : 
"  Gordon,  have  I  killed  you  ?  I  swear  I  did  not 
mean  it !  I  swear  I  did  not  mean  it !  Speak  and 
tell  me  you  are  not  badly  hurt.  I  aimed  at  your 
arm,  I  wanted  to  disable  you  so  you  could  not  go 
—  my  hand  trembled,  I'm  such  a  damned  bad 
shot  —  Oh,  Gordon,  I  have  killed  you !  " 

Gordon  straightened  himself  up.  "  I  am  not 
hurt." 

"  Not  hurt  !  "  repeated  Clifford  in  wonder. 
"  But  you  are  wounded  in  the  head." 

"It  is  nothing,"  and  Gordon  wiped  the  spot 
away  with  his  handkerchief.  "  I  am  not  wounded." 

"  Thank  God  1 "  ejaculated  his  younger  brother 
reverently.  "  I  thank  God.  I  aimed  at  your 
arm,  Gordon,  but  I  might  have  killed  you." 

Gordon  looked  his  brother  full  in  the  face  while 
the  moisture  came  into  his  own  eyes  as  he  said : 
"  Clifford,  that  was  made  by  the  wadding ;  you  don't 
suppose  I  'd  load  those  pistols  with  balls,  do  you?  " 

Clifford  stood  in  silence  for  a  moment,  then  he 
put  out  his  hand,,  which  was  clasped  by  his  elder 
brother. 


THE  CLAYBORNE  BLOOD  19 

"  Clifford,  we  have  been  together  all  our  lives ; 
we  part  now  perhaps  never  to  see  each  other  again 
in  this  world,  but,  if  we  do  meet,  remember  that 
we  did  not  part  in  anger." 


CHAPTER  II 
REGINA    BOWIE 

REGINA  BOWIE  heard  voices  raised  in  discord  in 
the  room  above.  She  went  to  the  door,  hesitating 
whether  or  not  to  go  upstairs  and  assume  the  role 
of  peacemaker. 

The  brothers  were  not  in  the  habit  of  quarrel 
ing,  but  once  when  they  had  fallen  out,  Miss  Re- 
gina  had  thought  it  her  duty  to  play  the  mediator. 
She  had  found  it  an  ungrateful  task,  for  both  of 
the  young  belligerents  had  turned  upon  her  and 
sent  her  away  in  great  discomfiture.  This  had 
happened  some  years  ago,  but  Regina  had  a  reten 
tive  memory.  "  Let  them  settle  it  between  them. 
I  '11  go  home,  and  when  they  come  to  me  I  shall 
find  out  all  about  it,"  she  said  to  herself. 

Miss  Regina  was  right.  After  supper  Clifford 
Clayborne  appeared  at  her  house.  He  had  come 
to  take  her  to  the  Town  Hall  where  speeches  were 
to  be  made  ;  where  troops  were  to  be  raised : 
where  fervid  eloquence  and  martial  enthusiasm 
were  to  have  full  sway. 

For  almost  the  first  tune  in  his  life  Clifford's 
manner  was  moody,  and  his  usually  bright  face 
was  overcast  as  he  stood  in  the  hallway  of  the 


REGINA  BOWIE  21 

Bowie  mansion  waiting  for  the  young  lady  of  the 
house  to  descend.  As  she  came  down  the  stair 
way  she  was  a  picture  to  dispel  the  cloud  from 
any  man's  brow.  She  was  a  woman  radiant  with 
health  and  spirits.  She  seemed  to  impart  the  joy 
of  living  to  all  who  came  within  her  sphere. 

"  Why,  where  is  Gordon  ?  "  she  asked  in  sur 
prise  as  she  gave  Clifford  her  hand. 

"  Gordon  is  at  home,"  was  the  brief  reply. 

Clifford  was  evidently  not  in  his  usual  expansive 
and  communicative  vein. 

"  The  trouble  must  be  more  serious  than  I  sup 
posed,"  the  young  lady  mused.  "  Is  that  all  you 
have  to  say  ?  "  she  inquired  aloud. 

"  If  you  're  ready,  we  '11  go  along,"  he  answered. 

She  threw  a  fichu  over  her  head  with  a  careless 
gesture,  at  the  same  time  making  sure  that  one  of 
her  dark  curls  was  coquettishly  exposed.  Looking 
at  him  seriously  she  asked  abruptly :  — 

"  What  is  the  trouble  between  you  two  ?  " 

Clifford's  chagrin  was  so  great  that  he  was  at 
first  not  inclined  to  speak.  She  laid  her  hand 
upon  his  arm,  saying  gently  :  — 

"  Come,  tell  me  about  it,  Cliff,"  and  led  the  way 
to  the  parlor. 

In  a  few  words  he  told  her  what  had  taken 
place  between  his  brother  and  himself,  omitting 
any  mention  of  the  bloodless  duel. 

She  listened  with  amazement. 

"  We  must  prevent  his  going  !  "  she  exclaimed 
as  Clifford  finished. 


22  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  But  how,  Regina  ?  " 

"  You  have  reasoned  with  him  ?  " 

«  I  have." 

"  Oh,  a  man's  arguments  ;  I  know.  You  prob 
ably  lost  your  tempers,  both  of  you." 

"  Perhaps." 

"  Clifford,  will  you  ask  Gordon  if  he  will  not 
come  over  and  see  me  ?  " 

"  It  will  be  useless.  You  know  how  impossible 
it  is  to  move  Gordon." 

"  I  will  try  it,  Clifford,"  she  replied,  throwing 
her  wrap  off  on  to  a  chair  with  a  gesture  of  de 
termination.  "  We  must  keep  him  from  this 
rash,  foolish  act,  Clifford.  We  both  of  us  must 
use  all  our  power.  Please  see  if  he  won't  come 
over  now.  Merely  tell  him  I  should  like  to  speak 
to  him." 

"  Very  well,  Regina,  I  hope  you  may  be  success 
ful  ;  "  and  Clifford  left  the  house. 

"  I  must  keep  Gordon  Clayborne  from  taking 
this  irretrievable  and  ruinous  step,"  she  repeated 
to  herself  as  she  walked  up  and  down  the  floor. 
"  If  you  put  the  matter  before  him  in  its  right 
light,  I  think  you  can  influence  him,  Regina 
Bowie."  And  she  paused  before  the  figure  re 
flected  in  the  full-length  mirror. 

She  did  not  have  more  than  her  fair  share  of 
vanity,  but  she  could  not  help  smiling  at  what  she 
saw  there.  It  was  the  graceful  form  of  a  young 
woman  who  was  handsome  and  was  sure  of  herself. 
Besides,  enough  men  had  told  her  of  her  beauty  to 


REGINA  BOWIE  23 

i 

convince  her,  had  she  ever  been  the  least  skeptical 
on  that  point.  The  face  was  warm-tinted  with 
health,  and  the  eyes  that  smiled  back  at  her  were 
wondrous  eyes.  They  could  be  merry  or  serious, 
they  could  look  defiant  or  stern,  or  pleading  or 
pathetic,  they  could  flash  with  anger  or  burn  with 
the  soft  light  of  love.  They  were  valuable  eyes, 
and  their  owner  knew  their  value.  She  turned 
away  from  the  mirror  and  sitting  down  in  an  arm 
chair  waited  quietly  for  Gordon,  with  her  chin 
resting  in  the  hollow  of  her  hand. 

Regina  Bowie  was  an  influence  within  her  social 
circle.  She  was  clever,  witty,  a  good  companion, 
and  gifted  to  a  high  degree  with  the  power  to 
please.  Perhaps  she  exerted  this  power  more  with 
men  than  with  women,  for  she  was  a  greater  favor 
ite  among  the  former.  Very  few  were  the  men 
who  came  within  the  magic  of  her  spell,  who  did  not 
at  one  time  or  another  give  some  manifestation  of 
their  tender  regard.  In  fact  so  many  young  gentle 
men  had  testified  as  to  their  ardent  devotion  that 
she  had  become  accustomed  to  the  avowals.  As 
for  Clifford  Clayborne,  he  did  not  count.  He  had 
been  in  love  with  every  pretty  girl  of  his  acquaint 
ance  ;  and  he  did  not  know  any  plain  ones.  Gor 
don,  however,  was  different.  Not  that  he  was 
insensible  to  the  charms  of  that  sex  which  poets 
have  called  the  fair,  the  false,  the  fickle,  the 
weaker,  the  gentle,  or  the  frail,  as  the  mood  dic 
tated.  The  young  fellow  who  at  twenty-five  has 
never  thought  himself  in  love  must  be  an  anomaly ; 


24  THE  CLAYBORNES 

but  Gordon  was  of  a  more  serious  turn  of  mind 
than  the  volatile  Clifford. 

Regina  Bowie  was  a  woman  who  could  guard 
a  secret  thoroughly  ;  still  she  could  have  told,  had 
she  been  so  minded,  of  an  afternoon  in  the  orchard, 
when  the  sunshine  was  bright,  and  the  air  rich 
with  the  fragrance  of  spring,  when  Gordon  Clay- 
borne  showed  her  that  he  was  —  "  like  the  others?  " 
Well,  not  exactly,  but  he  showed  her  that  he  was 
far  from  indifferent  to  her.  All  this  had  happened 
a  little  time  ago,  and  they  had  since  continued  to 
be  the  best  of  friends. 

Regina  liked  Gordon.  She  admired  him  for  his 
strength,  his  courage,  his  manly  bearing,  and  now 
she  was  grieved  and  shocked  to  learn  that  he  could 
repudiate  the  cause  which  she  held  as  sacred.  She 
felt  conscious  that  her  power  to  move  him  had  not 
altogether  waned,  and  she  set  her  lips  firmly  as  she 
whispered  to  herself :  "  He  shall  not  do  this  thing 
if  I  can  keep  him  from  it." 

Gordon  entered  the  room.  She  arose  from  her 
chair,  came  swiftly  to  him  and  gave  him  both  her 
hands. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  come,"  she  said  in  a  soft, 
harmonious  tone.  "  I  hope  it  is  to  tell  me  that 
Clifford  is  mistaken !  Oh,  tell  me  that  he  is 
mistaken ! " 

"  What  Clifford  said  is  true,  Regina." 

"  You  are  going  to  fight  for  the  Yankees  ?  "  she 
cried  in  a  tone  of  horror,  dropping  his  hands  and 
stepping  backward. 


REGINA  BOWIE  25 

"I  feel  it  my  duty  to  serve  the  United  States." 

"  They  no  longer  exist,"  she  replied  scornfully. 

"  I  am  still  in  the  United  States  Army,"  he 
answered,  "but  I  can  never  make  you  understand 
my  position,  Regina." 

"  I  will  try  to  understand.  I  want  to  under 
stand  you,  Gordon  ;  sit  down  here  and  let  me  try." 

She  made  room  for  him  upon  the  sofa  beside 
her  and  looked  into  his  face  intently. 

"  You  know,  Regina,  you  have  known  for  a  long 
time,  what  my  convictions  have  been." 

"  I  know,"  she  replied  softly.  "  And  I  know  also 
that  the  same  opinions  were  held  by  Early,  Wick- 
ham,  and  many  other  splendid  men;  but  they  will 
now  fight  for  the  South,  whatever  were  their  pre 
vious  opinions." 

"  I  wish,  Regina,  oh,  I  sincerely  wish  I  could 
feel  as  they  do,  but  I  cannot.  I  must  follow  my 
own  convictions,  no  matter  at  what  cost." 

"  I  want  you  to  follow  them,  Gordon ;  but  I 
want  you  to  follow  the  right  course,  don't  you 
see?" 

"  I  am  following  the  right  course.  I  wish  it 
were  not ;  I  wish  that  I  could  change." 

"  How  can  it  be  the  right  one,  when  your  father, 
your  brother,  every  one  is  on  the  other  side  ?  How 
can  you  alone  be  right  and  they  all  be  wrong? 
Oh,  Gordon,  why  do  I  listen  to  you !  "  She  rose 
to  her  feet  with  excitement.  "  If  any  other  man 
should  express  even  half  a  doubt  as  to  the  success 
of  our  arms  I  would  cut  his  acquaintance,"  she 


26  THE  CLAYBORNES 

said  passionately.  "  Yet  I  listen  to  you  when  you 
talk  this  treason.  Do  you  know  what  I  have  been 
saying  to  myself  these  many  days  ?  I  have  said, 
When  the  time  for  action  comes  Gordon  Clayborne 
will  be  found  in  the  first  rank,  among  the  very 
bravest,  fighting  for  our  cause,  and  I  can  look 
upon  him  as  a  hero."  Her  voice  dropped  on  the 
last  words  as  if  the  confession  had  slipped  from 
her  lips  unconsciously. 

"  I  am  no  hero,  Regina." 

"  You  are  brave  and  daring,  Gordon  ;  I  have 
always  known  that.  Be  loyal  and  true." 

"  I  must  be  loyal  to  the  Nation's  flag.  I  must 
follow  it  at  whatever  cost  to  myself,"  he  answered. 

"  And  at  whatever  cost  to  others  ?  "  she  inquired, 
coming  closer  to  him ;  "  are  you  willing  to  make 
others  unhappy  by  your  action  ?  " 

There  was  a  fascinating  grace  with  which  she 
dwelt  upon  the  plural  number  of  the  word  while 
her  eyes  and  the  soft  accents  of  her  voice  gave  it 
the  meaning  of  the  singular. 

He  could  not  look  into  those  wonderful  eyes 
without  feeling  how  lovely  and  charming  she  was. 
She  had  often  bewitched  him  with  her  captivating 
ways  and  her  audacious  spirit,  but  never  had  he  felt 
her  power  to  a  greater  degree  than  at  this  moment. 

For  a  few  moments  he  sat  in  silence.  In  his 
strong  nature  was  that  curious  mixture,  the  dash 
ing,  chivalrous  cavalier  of  the  Clayborne  blood  that 
could  not  bear  to  deny  a  woman ;  and  the  stern, 
unyielding  devotion  to  duty  of  his  puritan  mother. 


REGINA  BOWIE  27 

These  two  conflicting  elements  were  waging  fierce 
war  within  him  while  Regina  Bowie's  hand  rested 
appealingly  upon  his  sleeve. 

She  could  not  understand  the  struggle  taking 
place  within  him,  and  impatient  at  his  silence  burst 
forth  passionately  :  "  Oh  !  if  I  were  a  man !  I 
should  know  how  to  fight  —  I  should  know  how 
to  win  —  but  I  'm  only  a  woman.  The  man  whom 
I  have  always  held  to  be  both  brave  and  gallant 
disavows  our  cause.  He  is  unworthy.  I  should 
dismiss  him  from  my  thoughts  —  but  I  cannot. 
I  feel  his  disgrace  as  if  it  were  mine." 

Gordon  rose  to  his  feet  and  paced  the  room 
feverishly.  "  I  am  deeply  sorry  that  I  give  you 
cause  for  grief,  but  I  must  adhere  to  my  resolve  at 
whatever  cost  to  myself  or  any  one,"  he  exclaimed 
firmly. 

With  that  quickness  which  was  her  nature  she 
struck  the  soft  note  again :  — 

"  It  is  not  alone  the  pain  you  cause  me,  but 
think  of  your  father  and  your  brother.  Think  of 
the  proud  record  of  your  family  in  the  past. 
Think  of  the  future,  Gordon.  In  the  time  which 
is  coming  Virginia  will  be  made  still  more  glorious 
by  the  valor  of  her  sons !  Are  those  who  shall 
read  the  roll  of  honor  not  to  see  the  name  of  Gor 
don  Clayborne  written  there  ?  Oh,  Gordon,  let  me 
plead  with  you  for  the  sake  of  your  family,  if  not 
for  my  own !  Let  me  plead  with  you  for  the  sake 
of  all  those  whom  you  hold  dear,  and  who  love 

you." 


28  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  Regina,"  he  cried  passionately,  "  you  put  me 
upon  the  rack,  every  word  you  speak  is  an  added 
torture.  If  I  could  only  make  you  realize  the  hours 
of  doubt  and  struggle  I  have  been  through.  How 
I  have  reasoned  and  argued  with  myself  to  come 
to  but  one  decision.  My  position  is  different  from 
my  father's  or  my  brother's.  I  am  an  officer  in 
the  Army  of  the  United  States.  I  have  sworn 
allegiance  to  that  government.  I  cannot  break 
that  oath.  Do  not  ask  me  to  do  so,  Regina." 

"  I  would  not  ask  you  to  do  anything  dishonor 
able.  You  know  that,  don't  you,  Gordon  ?  " 

"  Let  us  say  good-night  and  end  this  painful 
scene,"  he  said  quickly,  putting  out  his  hand.  She 
took  the  proffered  hand.  "  Try  to  think  the  very 
best  you  can  of  me,  Regina,"  he  said  gently,  "  and 
even  if  you  cannot  understand  my  motives,  believe 
that  I  am  endeavoring  to  be  true  to  myself." 

"  I  shall  always  believe  that,  Gordon." 

"  Good-night,  Regina." 

"  One  word  more,"  she  exclaimed,  detaining  him 
by  the  arm.  "  In  a  case  where  two  lines  of  duty 
seem  to  conflict,  Gordon,  is  it  not  the  course  of  an 
honorable  man  to  choose  the  greater  duty  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Then,  if  the  duty  that  you  owed  to  your  State 
were  greater  than  duty  to  the  Federal  Govern 
ment,  would  you  not  be  doing  right  to  serve  the 
former  ?  " 

"  If  it  were  greater,  yes." 

"  But  it  is" 


REGINA  BOWIE  29 

He  shook  his  head  sadly.  "  It  all  hinges  on 
that.  I  cannot  see  it,  Regina." 

"Think  it  all  over  to-night,"  she  pleaded  ear 
nestly.  "  Think  of  what  I  have  said,  and  in  the 
morning  when  I  see  you  I  am  sure  you  will  have 
changed." 

"  Good-night,  Regina." 

"  You  will  think  of  what  I  have  said  ?  " 

"How  can  I  help  it?" 

"  Good-night,  Gordon." 

He  left  her.  She  heard  his  quick  footsteps  on 
the  gravel  walk.  She  remained  standing  with  a 
smile  on  her  lips,  but  the  spirit  within  her  raged 
fiercely. 

"  How  provoking  he  is,  how  obstinate !  But  I 
shall  keep  him  with  us.  It  will  be  more  difficult 
than  I  imagined,  but  I  will  do  it." 

Gordon  walked  up  and  down  the  floor  of  his 
room.  His  interview  with  Regina  had  caused  the 
struggle  to  be  renewed  within  him.  Late  into  the 
night  he  strode  restlessly  back  and  forth,  his  spirit 
torn  by  conflicting  emotions.  At  last,  worn  out 
with  mental  and  bodily  fatigue,  he  threw  himself 
down  upon  the  bed  fully  dressed,  and  almost  im 
mediately  fell  asleep. 

The  next  morning  before  breakfast,  Miss  Regina 
Bowie  went  out  into  her  garden.  Walking  among 
the  flowers  she  looked  as  fresh  as  the  brightest 
that  raised  its  head  to  the  morning  sunlight. 

"  Good-morning,  Clifford,"  she  called  gayly  to 
that  young  gentleman,  who  came  out  upon  the 


30 

veranda  of  the  neighboring  house.  She  beckoned 
to  him  and  he  came  slowly  across  the  lawn  and 
leaned  his  elbows  on  the  fence.  "  Did  you  go  to 
the  meeting,  last  night,  Clifford  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  What  was  done  ?     How  were  the  speeches  ?  " 

"  The  speeches  were  good  enough.  We  raised 
a  company  right  there."  Somehow  Clifford  did 
not  speak  with  his  accustomed  vivacity.  He  had  a 
listless  manner  as  if  he  had  slept  badly. 

Regina  looked  at  him  closely.  "  Have  you  seen 
your  brother  this  morning?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,  Gordon  's  gone.  He  went  off  before  day 
light.  Gone  to  fight  for  the  Yankees,"  with  a 
bitter  laugh. 

Regina  gave  a  start  of  genuine  surprise.  She 
turned  pale.  A  curious  light  shone  in  her  eyes. 
A  look  of  disappointment  and  anger  and  resent 
ment.  She  recovered  herself  quickly. 

"  Don't  you  think  this  is  a  beautiful  primrose, 
Clifford  ?  "  she  said.  "  Here,  put  it  in  your  but 
ton-hole.  And  oh,  Clifford,  I  've  got  the  banner 
almost  done.  Come  into  the  house  and  see  it." 


CHAPTER  HI 
THE  CLAYBOENE   HORSE 

COLONEL  JOSEPH  CLAYBORNE  had  mustered  his 
troop  of  horse  and  led  them  into  camp.  He  rode 
at  their  front  with  his  dark  head  erect,  and  a  look 
of  pride  on  his  open,  genial  face.  He  did  not  dis 
guise  the  pride  which  he  took  in  the  body  of  men 
who  had  rallied  to  his  standard,  but  there  was  an 
expression  of  sadness  in  his  eyes  as  he  surveyed 
them  and  thought  of  his  elder  son  who  was  not 
one  of  them.  There  was  a  catch  in  his  voice  as 
he  gave  a  command  to  Major  Colbert,  and  thought 
that  it  should  have  been  to  Major  Gordon  Clay- 
borne.  But  he  swallowed  his  sorrow  and  spoke  to 
Colbert  in  that  tone  of  familiar  affection  which  so 
endeared  him  to  his  men. 

Once  in  camp,  Colonel  Clayborne  began  to  give 
his  troopers  a  little  taste  of  martial  discipline. 
Discipline !  these  lusty  young  tyros  did  not  know 
the  meaning  of  the  word  !  Wild  harum-skarum 
young  fellows  they  were  for  the  most  part:  many 
of  them  wealthy,  accustomed  to  indulgent  ease  ; 
young  bucks  about  town,  fresh  from  the  club  and 
the  drawing-room ;  sons  of  planters,  dressed  in 
broadcloth  and  fine  linen,  who  had  never  lifted  a 
finger  in  monotonous  toil. 


32  THE  CLAYBORNES 

If  they  did  not  know  discipline,  they  also  did 
not  know  fear.  Though  they  were  used  to  lux 
ury,  and  had  taken  the  cream  of  life  with  the 
haughty  assumption  of  rank,  they  could  ride  all 
day  in  the  saddle  without  fatigue.  They  could 
endure  cold  and  hunger,  and  at  night  could  dine 
merrily  on  a  crust  of  bread  if  nothing  better  was 
forthcoming. 

They  could  fight.  They  had  come  out  for  that, 
and  were  quite  willing  to  waive  the  tedium  of  drill 
and  the  restraint  of  discipline,  and  drive  hot 
headed  towards  the  enemy.  Colonel  Clayborne, 
as  a  youth,  had  seen  service  in  the  Mexican  war, 
and  he  was  aware  of  the  absolute  necessity  of 
organization,  so  by  bullying  and  cajoling,  he  man 
aged  to  bring  together  a  goodly  showing  at  the 
daily  drills.  The  men  were  all  hot  for  war,  and 
when  they  discovered  that  the  sooner  they  mas 
tered  the  manual  of  arms  the  sooner  they  would 
get  an  opportunity  to  exercise  them,  every  man 
among  them  threw  himself  into  the  task  with 
ardor. 

Out  of  the  ranks,  however,  they  were  as  un- 
trammeled  by  military  traditions  as  so  many  inde 
pendent  lords  of  the  manor.  Their  camp  resem 
bled  the  famous  "Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold." 
Their  personal  equipment  would  have  accommo 
dated  a  brigade,  and  their  body  servants  were  a 
small  army  in  themselves. 

Those  were  sunny  days  of  war  before  swords  had 
crossed,  before  cannon  had  thinned  the  ranks  and 


THE  CLAYBORNE  HORSE  33 

blood  had  dimmed  the  lustre  of  gorgeous  uni 
forms. 

Daintily  dressed  ladies  drove  out  daily  to  visit 
them,  and  vied  with  each  other  in  courting  the 
attentions  of  the  brave  warriors.  "  Camp  Clay- 
borne  "  looked  like  a  flower-garden  ;  and  the  only 
fatal  shots  came  from  Cupid's  noiseless  bow. 

On  one  sunny  afternoon  Clifford  Clayborne  was 
leaning  nonchalantly  against  a  tree  smoking  a  big 
black  cigar.  He  was  dressed  in  a  new  uniform 
which  he  had  ordered  with  particular  care  from  a 
fashionable  tailor.  The  result,  which  would  have 
been  appropriate  for  a  field-marshal,  was  entirely 
satisfactory  to  Clifford,  who  at  present  was  a  pri 
vate  in  his  father's  troop  of  horse. 

"  Let  the  young  man  win  his  spurs,"  Colonel 
Clayborne  had  said,  and  placed  his  son  in  the  ranks 
with  Spartan  firmness. 

But  whether  an  officer  or  a  private,  Clifford  had 
a  position  to  maintain,  and  he  was  always  equal  to 
his  position.  That  afternoon  Private  Clayborne 
had  been  ordered  by  a  lieutenant  to  do  some  guard 
duty,  but  the  task  had  proved  distasteful  to  him, 
so  he  had  delegated  the  work  and  was  cooling  his 
spurs  under  the  shade  of  an  inviting  tree  while  he 
puffed  contentedly  upon  an  Havana  cigar.  The 
lieutenant,  in  a  uniform  somewhat  less  magnificent 
than  his  subordinate's,  strolled  by. 

"  Hello,  Clayborne,  I  thought  you  were  detailed 
to  guard  duty." 

"  Too  hot  work  on  such  an  afternoon,  Lieuten 
ant." 


34  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  Dash  it,  Clayborne,  you  are  going  too  far. 
Don't  you  mean  to  obey  orders  ?  " 

"  I  '11  obey  any  orders  that  are  sensible  orders, 
but  while  we  are  still  a  hundred  miles  from  any 
enemy,  I  '11  be  damned  if  I  'm  going  to  broil  my 
skin  in  the  hot  sun  to  please  any  one." 

"  Colonel  Clayborne  says  there  must  be  more 
discipline  in  this  camp  ;  as  an  officer  I  'm  bound 
to  enforce  it.  If  you  don't  obey  orders  I  shall 
report  you,  Mr.  Clayborne." 

"  If  you  report  me,  there  '11  be  trouble  between 
us,  Lieutenant  Marmaduke  Preston.  Now,  I  don't 
want  to  be  unreasonable,  but  I  think  you  owe  me 
an  apology." 

"  An  apology  ?  "  gasped  the  lieutenant ;  "  me 
apologize  to  a  private  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  I  don't  ask  that ;  but  as  one  gentleman 
to  another  I  demand  one.  You  must  have  known 
that  on  this  afternoon  the  duty  assigned  would  be 
particularly  distasteful  to  me.  I  told  you  I  was 
expecting  a  party  of  ladies  to  drive  out  from  town. 
I  want  to  be  in  a  position  to  show  them  some  at 
tention.  You  would  have  deprived  me  of  the 
pleasure." 

"  Well,  if  that 's  the  case,  Mr.  Clayborne,  I  beg 
to  express  my  regrets  for  the  unfortunate  order ; 
of  course  I  did  not  mean  "  — 

"  Oh,  don't  say  anything  further  about  it,  Pres 
ton,"  exclaimed  Clifford  magnanimously.  "  Of 
course  I  want  you  to  understand  that  under  ordi 
nary  circumstances,  if  there  is  anything  I  can  do  at 
any  time  I  shall  be  only  too  happy  to  oblige." 


THE  CLAYBORNE  HORSE  35 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  replied  the  lieutenant.  Then 
his  face  brightening,  he  remarked :  "  There  are 
some  mules  over  there  which  have  eaten  their 
tethers  and  are  at  present  making  some  little  havoc 
among  the  supply  wagons ;  could  you  make  it  con 
venient  "  — 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Clifford  heartily.  "  Here, 
Brutus,"  he  called  out  to  a  negro  who  was  at  some 
distance,  "  come  here  at  once." 

"  Yes,  Marse  Clayborne,"  cried  the  colored  ser 
vant,  running  towards  them. 

"  You  catch  those  mules  over  there  and  tie  them 
up  some  place  securely.  If  you  value  your  dusky 
hide,  don't  you  let  them  get  away.  You  under 
stand  ?  " 

"  'Deed  I  '11  be  right  careful,  Marse  Clayborne." 

"  Thank  you,  Clayborne,"  said  the  lieutenant. 
"  What  do  you  say  to  going  up  to  headquarters  ? 
I  think  there  's  a  jolly  party  just  driven  up  there. 
Miss  Susie  Brent  and  her  cousin  were  in  the  car 
riage." 

"  I  '11  join  you  with  pleasure,  Preston  ;  will  you 
have  a  cigar  ?  " 

"  Thanks,  yes."  And  the  two  young  soldiers 
went  off  amicably  together. 

A  young  dandy  was  standing  as  sentry  outside 
of  the  colonel's  gate  at  headquarters.  His  face 
wore  an  expression  of  great  tedium  and  he  yawned 
from  time  to  time  wearily.  His  countenance 
lighted  up  somewhat  at  the  sight  of  Clifford  and 
the  lieutenant. 


36  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  Cliff,  my  boy,  have  you  got  a  cigar  about  you  ? 
I  'm  bored  to  death  standing  here  in  the  sun.  I  've 
got  another  hour  of  it." 

"You  have  my  entire  sympathy,  Pendleton. 
But  why  don't  you  cut  the  job  ?  " 

"  I  would,  but  Major  Colbert  asked  me  to  stay 
here  and  keep  out  any  visitors  while  he  has  a  con 
fab  with  your  father  and  General  Beauregard,  who 
has  called.  Got  a  match,  Lieutenant,  —  thanks ! 
The  major  is  such  a  jolly  good  fellow,  I  like  to 
oblige  him,"  young  Pendleton  went  on  as  he  lit 
the  cigar. 

"  The  major 's  a  mighty  good  fellow,"  Clifford 
assented,  leaning  against  the  gate-post,  "  but  he 
can't  play  cards  worth  a  cent.  A  few  of  us  were 
sitting  in  a  little  game  at  his  quarters  last  evening 
and  we  got  pretty  near  everything  the  major  had." 

"  Sorry  I  was  unable  to  be  present,  but  I  had 
an  engagement  up  in  the  city  last  night.  I  did  not 
get  back  until  early  this  morning ; "  and  young 
Pendleton  yawned  again. 

"  We  got  to  playing  for  pay-vouchers  and 
quartermaster's  orders,"  said  Clifford. 

"  Pay- vouchers  and  quartermaster's  orders  ?  " 
interrupted  Pendleton.  "  What  in  the  devil  are 
those  ?  " 

"  Why,  did  n't  you  know  that  we  are  getting  pay 
from  the  C.  S.  Government  ?  "  demanded  Lieuten 
ant  Preston. 

"  This  is  the  first  I  've  heard  of  it,"  answered 
Pendleton. 


THE  CLAYBORNE  HORSE  37 

"  Well,  we  are.  You  're  getting  your  pay  for 
standing  out  here  now  in  the  sun." 

"  Well,  I  'm  damned,"  exclaimed  young  Peiidle- 
ton,  laughing  heartily.  "  So  I  'm  getting  paid  for 
drilling,  and  for  fighting  the  Yankees  ;  that  beats 
me.  Why,  I  never  earned  a  cent  in  my  life,  and 
to  think  that  there  is  a  pecuniary  consideration  in 
all  this  army  life  just  knocks  me.  Why,  this  is 
really  earning  your  bread  by  the  sweat  of  your 
brow,  hey,  Clifford !  "  and  Pendleton  laughed 
louder  than  ever. 

"  And  what  is  more,"  Clifford  replied,  "  the 
Government  is  going  to  supply  every  soldier  with 
food  and  clothing." 

"  What !  "  cried  Pendleton  in  open-eyed  aston 
ishment  ;  "  clothes  too  !  By  Jove,  fellows,  that 's 
like  being  charity  boys,  is  n't  it  ?  Well,  that  is 
rich.  I  never  expected  to  see  the  day  when  Buck 
Pendleton  would  be  '  drawing  his  pay '  or  stand 
ing  in  line  with  a  ticket  '  entitling  the  bearer  to 
one  pair  of  new  boots ; ' "  and  the  young  dandy 
laughed  immoderately. 

"  There  's  where  the  fun  comes  in,"  exclaimed 
Clifford ;  "  it  was  only  last  night  that  we  heard  of 
this  parental  government  system.  Some  of  the 
boys  were  for  refusing  any  remuneration  whatever, 
as  being  beneath  the  dignity  of  a  gentleman  and  a 
soldier  to  fight  for  hire  ;  but  little  Cecil  Granger 
suggested  that  we  should  play  cards  for  the  pay- 
vouchers.  The  boys  took  to  the  scheme  at  once. 
The  consequence  was  I  came  away  with  a  month  of 


38  THE  CLAYBORNES 

Major  Colbert's  future  pay,  together  with  orders 
for  two  pairs  of  boots,  a  new  coat,  a  woolen  blanket, 
and  I  don't  know  how  many  pairs  of  regulation 
army  pants." 

"  That 's  the  best  joke  I  've  heard  for  a  good 
while,"  cried  Pendleton,  slapping  his  leg  with 
delight.  "  I  '11  go  into  that  game  at  once.  I  'm 
going  to  give  an  informal  little  dinner  at  the 
Spotswood  in  town  to-night.  I  want  you  and 
Preston  to  come.  I  '11  warn  you  in  advance,  Clif 
ford,  I  'm  going  to  put  up  a  strong  game  to  win 
some  of  those  pants." 

"  I  '11  bet  you  two  pairs  of  boots  I  come  out 
ahead,"  retorted  Clifford  promptly. 

"  Done  !  "  replied  Pendleton  gayly  ;  "  and  I  '11 
invite  Major  Colbert  and  let  him  have  a  chance  to 
get  back  his  month's  pay.  Poor  major !  " 

"  All  right,  Pen,  we  '11  be  on  hand  at  six  o'clock, 
but  we  '11  have  to  leave  you  now,  as  I  see  Miss 
Brent  and  Miss  Price  over  by  the  doctor's  tent. 
Sorry  you  can't  come  with  us  Pen,  my  boy." 

"  Never  mind,  you  may  be  in  the  same  box  some 
day,  Clifford,  and  then  I  '11  have  the  laugh  on 
you." 

"  All  right,  sonny !     Good-by  for  the  present." 

"  Good-by.  If  you  see  Cecil  Granger  ask  him 
to  join  us  to-night,  will  you,  Clifford  ?  " 

"  I  will  —  and  how  about  Captain  Dalany  ?  " 
asked  Clifford. 

"  Oh,  I  'm  not  going  to  invite  him,  Cliff.  He 's 
not  in  our  set !  " 


THE  CLAYBORNE  HORSE  39 

"  I  know  that,  but  I  thought  the  army  was  a 
kind  of  a  leveler  and  you  might  want  to  take  him 
in." 

"  No,  the  captain  's  all  right  in  his  place ;  he 
knows  the  military  drill,  but  I  don't  think  we 
should  be  too  free  in  letting  down  the  bars,  Cliff, 
so  I  think  I  won't  include  him.  Good  afternoon, 
boys.  I  'm  glad  to  have  had  this  little  chat,  it  en 
livens  this  dull  sentry  duty ;  but  I  won't  keep  you 
from  the  ladies." 

"  That 's  kind  of  you,  Pen  ;  we  '11  say  a  good  word 
for  you  and  tell  them  what  a  fine  soldier  you  're 
making."  And  the  two  young  men  walked  off  in 
the  direction  of  a  group  that  had  gathered  in  front 
of  the  doctor's  tent. 

Young  Pendleton  was  left  to  his  duty  and  his 
cigar.  "  It 's  a  confounded  bore,  but  I  suppose 
it 's  one  of  the  necessities  of  war,"  he  said,  with  a 
sigh  of  resignation,  as  he  solaced  himself  with  the 
fragrant  Havana.  Suddenly  he  threw  the  cigar 
away  and  lifted  his  hat  with  a  great  show  of 
courtliness. 

"  Miss  Bowie,"  he  exclaimed,  "  this  is  indeed  a 
most  delightful  surprise  !  " 

"  Why,  Mr.  Pendleton,  I  am  the  one  to  be  sur 
prised.  As  I  came  along  I  saw  a  grand  looking 
soldier  standing  here.  I  had  no  idea  he  was  going 
to  turn  out  to  be  an  old  friend  —  and  you  are  a 
friend  in  need,  too  ; "  and  she  smiled  at  him  be- 
witchingly  from  under  a  dainty  parasol. 

She  wore  a  pretty  summer   gown   of   figured 


40  THE   CLAYBORNES 

muslin  with  a  bit  of  cherry-colored  ribbon  at  her 
throat.  Her  bonnet,  a  coquettish  creation  of  the 
prevailing  mode,  had  a  dash  of  the  same  color 
in  it. 

"  I  shall  be  only  too  happy  to  render  you  any 
service  in  my  power,  Miss  Bowie,"  replied  Pen- 
dleton. 

"  Then  tell  me  where  are  Colonel  Clayborne's 
headquarters." 

"  These  are  his  headquarters,  Miss  Bowie." 

"Oh,  are  they?  How  very  nice  and  comfort 
able  ;  and  how  very  swell  you  all  are.  I  don't 
wonder  the  girls  have  all  been  wild  to  come  out 
here,  Mr.  Pendleton,'  or  should  I  say  Captain 
Pendleton  ?  —  Perhaps  Major  —  I  don't  know  your 
rank." 

"  I  'm  not  an  officer,  Miss  Bowie  —  not  yet. 
I  'm  only  a  trooper." 

"  Oh,  a  trooper,  Mr.  Pendleton.  A  dashing 
cavalier  with  a  sword  at  his  side,  a  jingling  pair 
of  spurs,  long  mustachios,  and  above  all  a  heart 
for  the  ladies.  How  glorious  to  be  a  trooper !  I 
should  love  to  be  a  trooper.  But  where  are  your 
mustachios,  Mr.  Pendleton  ?  " 

"  What  I  lack  in  mustache  I  make  up  in  heart, 
as  you  know  full  well ;  but  I  fear  you  could  never 
be  a  trooper,  my  dear  Miss  Regina,  if  it  requires 
a  heart  to  be  such." 

"  What  you  lack  in  mustache  you  make  up  in 
impudence,  you  mean  to  say,  Mr.  Pendleton,  if  you 
accuse  me  of  knowing  anything  about  your  heart." 


THE  CLAYBORNE  HORSE  41 

"  You  should  know,  for  it  is  in  your  keeping." 

"  In  my  keeping  —  since  when,  pray  ?  " 

"  Since  the  very  first  moment  I  looked  into  your 
pretty  eyes,  Miss  Bowie." 

"  Oh  Lord,  Mr.  Pendleton,  then  it  is  such  a 
small  one  that  I  must  have  mislaid  it.  I  will  look 
among  my  effects,  and  if  I  find  the  poor  thing  I 
will  return  it  to  you  at  once." 

"  You  will  probably  find  it,  along  with  a  dozen 
or  two  others,  put  away  upon  a  shelf." 

"  It  will  be  dreadfully  dusty  then,  for  I  assure 
you  I  know  nothing  about  the  hearts  of  you  men, 
never  having  seen  them.  And  now  will  you  be  so 
very  obliging  as  to  show  me  into  Colonel  Clay- 
borne's  office  ?  " 

"  I  am  sorry  I  cannot  do  that,  as  I  have  been 
instructed  to  allow  no  one  to  pass." 

"  Oh,  I  pray  just  let  me  pass." 

"  It  is  impossible  for  two  reasons.  First,  I  must 
not  disobey  orders ;  second,  I  could  not  reconcile 
myself  to  losing  your  charming  society." 

"  Thank  you  for  the  compliment,  Mr.  Pendle 
ton,"  she  replied  with  a  graceful  curtsy ;  "  but  I 
should  appreciate  it  more  if  you  would  only  be 
agreeable  and  let  me  enter  this  mysterious  sanctum 
which  you  are  guarding  so  jealously." 

"  Impossible." 

'•'-Please  let  me  go  by,"  she  pleaded  in  her 
most  persuasive  tone. 

"  I  really  can't  unless  you  give  the  countersign," 
he  replied,  putting  his  sabre  across  the  gateway 
and  smiling  in  a  tantalizing  manner. 


42  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  Perhaps  you  think  I  don't  know  the  counter 
sign,"  she  said  archly. 

"  I  am  positive  you  do  not ; "  "  because,"  he 
added  to  himself,  "  there  is  n't  any." 

«  Well,  I  do  know  it." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  It  was  given  to  me  in  confidence ;  do  you 
think  I  would  betray  it  ?  " 

"  I  think  you  would,  in  order  to  get  in  here." 

"  Oh,  fie,  Mr.  Pendleton.  Now,  I  '11  never  tell 
you  —  unless  I  whisper  it  very  softly." 

"  I  'm  all  attention." 

"  If  it 's  the  right  one,  will  you  promise  to  let 
me  go  by  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  Well,  come  here  and  bend  your  head  down, 
you  stiff-necked  grenadier." 

"  Now  "  —  when  her  lips  were  close  to  his  ear 
she  drew  back  suddenly  and  gave  it  a  sharp  tap 
with  her  gloved  hand,  while  with  a  merry  laugh 
she  slipped  by  him  and  up  the  steps  —  "  you  're  a 
fine  soldier  not  to  be  able  to  keep  a  girl  out,"  she 
cried  gayly.  "  Never  mind,  don't  disturb  yourself, 
I  can  find  the  colonel,  and  above  all  don't  forget 
the  countersign ; "  and  with  a  sprightly  wave  of 
the  hand  she  disappeared  into  the  house,  closing 
the  door  quickly. 

From  a  room  at  the  farther  end  of  the  hall 
Colonel  Clayborne  heard  the  front  door  slam. 
"  What  is  that  ?  "  he  exclaimed  in  a  tone  of  annoy 
ance,  rising  from  his  chair.  "  I  left  particular 


THE  CLAYBORNE  HORSE  43 

word  that  we  were  to  be  disturbed  on  no  account. 
My  men  are  splendid  fellows,  General,  but  they 
are  frightfully  disobedient.  It  is  about  time  to 
make  an  example  of  some  one." 

A  light  step  was  heard  in  the  hallway,  and  Miss 
Regina  Bowie  stood  demurely  on  the  threshold. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Colonel  Clay  borne,"  she 
said  sweetly.  "  I  know  this  is  wholly  unmilitary. 
What  do  you  do  to  intruders  like  me  ?  " 

"  Miss  Bowie  can  never  intrude  where  she  is 
always  welcome,"  said  the  colonel  politely,  bend 
ing  over  her  hand.  "  Allow  me  to  present  General 
Beauregard.  Miss  Bowie  is  the  daughter  of  my 
old  friend,  General  Bowie." 

"  I  am  Mghly  honored  in  making  the  acquaint 
ance  of  so  charming  a  daughter  of  so  gallant  a 
soldier,"  said  General  Beauregard,  bowing  with 
effusion. 

"  The  ladies,"  said  the  colonel,  "  have  vied  with 
the  men  in  their  patriotism  ;  and  now  that  we  are 
about  to  take  the  field,  they  grace  our  camp  daily, 
stimulating  the  soldiers  by  their  beauty  and  their 
enthusiasm." 

"  Gad,  Colonel,  if  there  are  many  like  Miss 
Bowie  I  advise  you  to  get  your  men  into  the  field 
at  once,  or  you  will  have  your  hospitals  full  of  those 
who  have  fallen  under  the  batteries  of  these  bright 
eyes." 

"  Oh,  please,  General  Beauregard,  you  flatter 
us.  I  am  afraid  the  men  are  far  too  much  taken 
up  with  their  new  uniforms  and  in  studying  the 


44  THE  CLAYBORNES 

art  of  war  to  bestow  many  looks  upon  us  poor  girls. 
Woman  can  play  but  a  minor  part  in  time  of  war, 
General ;  but  such  as  it  is,  she  should  do  her  part 
uncomplainingly  and  earnestly."  She  had  begun 
the  sentence  in  a  merry  mood,  but  the  last  words 
were  spoken  with  deep  seriousness. 

"  Miss  Bowie  is  a  host  in  herself,  I  assure  you, 
General,"  said  the  colonel. 

General  Beauregard  looked  at  her  admiringly. 
"  I  could  swear  to  that,"  he  replied. 

"  I  am  so  anxious  to  be  of  some  service,"  the 
young  woman  said  with  intensity.  "  I  know  I  can 
do  something ;  that  is  why  I  came  to  ask  the  favor 
of  a  very  short  interview  with  you,  General  Beaure 
gard.  You  will  grant  it,  won't  you  ?  It  is  of  so 
much  importance,  and  I  am  so  lucky  in  finding 
you  here ;  and  you,  Colonel,  and  you,  Major  Col 
bert,  will  pardon  me,  I  am  sure,  for  interrupting 
you  in  this  rude  manner."  She  turned  from  one 
to  the  other  with  a  radiant  smile. 

"  Certainly,  certainly,"  exclaimed  all  the  war 
riors,  speaking  at  once. 

"  Will  you  be  so  good  as  to  step  in  here,  Miss 
Bowie  ?  "  and  the  general  led  the  way  into  an 
adjoining  room.  "  In  what  way  can  I  be  of  ser 
vice  to  you,  my  dear  young  lady?"  he  asked, 
placing  a  chair  for  her. 

Miss  Bowie  did  not  speak  at  once,  but  looked 
carefully  into  the  general's  face  as  he  sat  opposite 
her  in  an  attitude  of  attention. 

There  was  an  expression  of  seriousness  in  her 


THE  CLAYBORNE  HORSE  46 

wondrous  eyes,  and  she  hesitated  to  begin  a  sub 
ject  which  she  was  nevertheless  determined  to 
approach. 

"  What  I  am  about  to  say,"  she  finally  began, 
"is  of  so  delicate  a  nature,  of  so  confidential  a 
nature,  that  I  must  ask  you  to  keep  it  a  deep 
secret." 

"  Madam,"  replied  the  general,  placing  his  hand 
upon  his  heart,  "  you  may  rest  assured  that  any 
confidence  from  a  lady  is  a  sacred  trust." 

"  What  I  am  about  to  suggest,  for  it  is  a  sug 
gestion  as  well  as  an  entreaty,  may  seem  to  you 
difficult  to  accomplish.  It  will  certainly  surprise 
you,  but  I  hope  you  will  hear  all  I  have  to  say 
before  you  pass  judgment  upon  it." 

"  I  will  listen  willingly  to  everything  you  have 
to  say." 

She  leaned  her  head  slightly  towards  him,  and 
began  speaking  in  a  low  tone  of  voice,  the  color 
coming  to  her  cheek,  the  fire  flashing  in  her  eyes 
as  she  progressed.  Yet  she  never  raised  her  voice, 
but  went  on  speaking  rapidly,  clearly,  convin 
cingly. 

General  Beauregard  looked  at  her  with  surprise 
and  wonder,  which  increased  as  she  continued. 
Once  or  twice  he  essayed  to  speak,  but  she  im 
posed  silence  by  lifting  her  hand.  When  she  had 
finished  and  sat  with  her  serious  eyes  looking  ear 
nestly  into  his  face,  awaiting  his  reply,  he  arose 
and  took  both  of  her  hands  in  his  own.  "  Miss 
Bowie,  I  honor  you.  You  are  a  credit  to  your  sex. 


46  THE  CLAYBORNES 

You  are  an  honor  to  the  South.  I  am  proud  to 
have  this  privilege,  madam,"  and  he  saluted  her 
hand  in  courtly  manner. 

"  And  your  answer,  General  ?  "  she  asked,  with 
just  the  slightest  tremor  of  excitement  in  her  quiet 
voice. 

"  Miss  Bowie,"  he  replied,  walking  up  and  down 
the  room  with  a  quick,  energetic  stride,  "  this  is  a 
matter  which  requires  the  greatest  amount  of  dis 
cussion  and  planning.  Can  you  not  come  to  my 
headquarters  ?  " 

"  I  shall  be  only  too  happy  to  come,  but  it  is  so 
difficult  to  get  access  to  you  military  commanders 
—  one  has  to  pass  so  many  sentries,  and  storm  so 
many  redoubts,"  she  replied,  laughing. 

"  Never  fear,  you  will  find  no  difficulty  of  access. 
Shall  I  expect  you  —  say  day  after  to-morrow  ?  " 

"I  shall  certainly  be  there,  and  I  thank  you, 
General  Beauregard,  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart 
for  the  generous  way  in  which  you  have  met  my 
request.  I  was  so  afraid  you  would  dismiss  it 
lightly  with  a  laugh." 

"You  presented  the  matter  in  too  earnest  a 
manner  to  permit  it  to  be  lightly  treated,  even  if 
it  should  not  have  met  with  my  approval,"  replied 
the  general,  as  they  rejoined  the  other  officers. 

"  Nevertheless,  I  quaked  inwardly,"  Regina  an 
swered,  "  and  I  thank  you  a  thousand  times.  And 
I  thank  you  also,  most  warmly,  Colonel  Clayborne, 
for  not  turning  me  out  when  I  descended  upon  you 
so  unexpectedly.  You  must  consider  a  persistent 


THE  CLAYBORNE  HORSE  47 

female  like  me  a  great  nuisance  sometimes.  Now 
don't  you,  Colonel?"  she  asked,  with  a  merry 
laugh. 

"  Never,  Miss  Bowie.  You  enthusiastic  women 
are  never  in  the  way ;  you  are  an  inspiration  and 
a  sustaining  influence.  We  are  going  to  have  a 
battalion  drill  this  afternoon,  for  General  Beaure- 
gard's  benefit.  Won't  you  stay  and  witness  it?  " 

"  Oh,  I  shall  be  delighted  to  stay,  and  I  want 
to  see  Clifford.  Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Clifford  's  a  mighty  soldier  now.  We 
shall  doubtless  find  him  deep  in  some  book  of  army 
tactics.  Come,  and  I  will  show  you  through  the 
camp." 

Regina  Bowie  bowed  sweetly  to  young  Pendle- 
ton  as  she  walked  away  between  General  Beau- 
regard  and  Colonel  Clay  borne.  Her  heart  beat 
high  with  the  elation  of  success.  She  was  to 
have  another  interview  with  General  Beauregard, 
and  she  felt  confident  that  her  cherished  plan,  her 
daring  and  elaborate  scheme,  was  now  assured  of 
meeting  with  his  final  approval. 

The  battalion  drill  went  off  with  eclat.  Regina 
Bowie  was  radiant  with  enthusiasm.  General 
Beauregard  was  greatly  pleased.  "  All  your  men 
need  now,  Colonel,  is  a  little  of  the  hardship  of 
war  to  make  real  soldiers  of  them." 

A  few  days  later  the  camp  was  thrown  into  a 
fever  of  excitement.  Word  had  been  received  that 
the  troop  was  to  proceed  towards  the  front. 

Towards  the  front  they  went,  although  not  into 


48  THE  CLAYBORNES 

immediate  battle,  as  young  Pendleton  predicted 
and  Clifford  Clayborne  hoped.  There  followed 
weeks  of  marching  and  bivouac  ;  there  were  scout 
ing  and  reconnoissance.  Colonel  Clayborne  knew 
his  men  and  knew  what  he  could  get  out  of  them. 
By  degrees,  through  force  of  example  and  through 
mutual  affection,  he  established  a  dominion  over 
them  of  which  they  themselves  were  hardly  aware. 
He  led  them  into  dangers  which  he  shared  with 
them.  He  made  them  do  picket  duty  until  they 
grumbled  and  swore,  and  he  cheerfully  doubled 
their  work. 

Soon  they  joined  a  larger  force  of  men,  and 
this  force  in  turn  welded  into  another  brigade, 
until  they  found  themselves  part  of  Beauregard's 
army.  Rumors  of  approaching  battle  began  to  fly, 
at  first  vague  and  conflicting,  changing  from  day 
to  day.  "  They  were  to  capture  Washington !  " 
"  They  were  to  intrench  to  repel  an  invading 
horde  of  one  hundred  thousand !  "  Still  they  went 
forward.  That  suited  "Clayborne's  troopers." 
Intrenching  was  not  to  their  taste.  What  they 
wanted  was  a  fair  fight  and  no  favors.  They  had 
had  three  months  of  the  camp,  the  drill,  and  the 
march,  and  they  had  not  yet  met  the  enemy. 
They  had  begun  to  doubt  his  existence.  "  This  is 
not  war,"  said  young  Pendleton  contemptuously ; 
"this  is  merely  a  triumphal  progress.  I  don't 
believe  there 's  a  man  to  oppose  us  between  here 
and  the  Yankee  capital !  " 

At  last,  when   Pendleton's  impatience  was  at 


THE  CLAYBORNE   HORSE  49 

fever  heat  and  when  Clifford  Clayborne  had  begun 
to  despair  of  ever  winning  his  spurs,  it  came. 

One  morning  at  daybreak,  the  troopers  found 
themselves  drawn  up  on  the  edge  of  a  wood  behind 
the  crest  of  a  low  hill,  the  booming  of  cannon  and 
the  rattle  of  musketry  sounding  in  their  ears.  On 
their  left  lay  a  long  gray  line  of  reserves,  half 
hidden  among  the  trees.  Horses  pranced  with  ex 
citement,  their  riders'  eyes  shone  with  eagerness. 
Colonel  Clayborne  sat  motionless  upon  his  horse, 
coolly  surveying  his  troopers.  A  shell  came 
screaming  over  their  heads  to  explode  among  the 
trees  in  the  rear.  Still  the  colonel  gave  no  word 
of  command.  There  was  a  subdued  murmur  among 
his  men.  Young  Pendleton  rode  his  spirited 
charger  out  of  the  ranks,  and,  saluting  his  colonel, 
called  out  in  a  loud  voice  that  was  heard  by  the 
entire  regiment :  "  For  the  Lord's  sake,  Colonel 
Clayborne,  are  n't  you  going  to  give  the  word  to 
charge  ?  " 

"  Get  back  into  the  ranks !  "  thundered  the 
colonel,  turning  upon  him  in  fury. 

"  But,  Colonel,"  reasoned  Pendleton,  almost  in 
tears,  "  we  came  out  to  fight,  and  we  're  missing  all 
the  fun." 

"  I  '11  give  you  all  the  fun  you  want,  if  you  don't 
obey  my  orders,"  answered  the  colonel,  drawing  a 
revolver  from  his  belt.  "  Get  back  to  your  place, 
or  I  '11  shoot  you  down !  " 

Pendleton  bowed  haughtily  and  rode  slowly 
back.  "  It 's  damn  discourteous  of  the  colonel," 


50  THE  CLAYBORNES 

he  muttered  to  Clifford,  as  he  resumed  his  place  in 
the  ranks. 

"  The  old  man  knows  what  he  is  about,"  replied 
Clifford,  in  duty  bound  to  support  his  father's 
judgment;  "but  I  wish  he  would  give  us  the 
word,"  he  could  not  help  adding. 

An  orderly  rode  up  to  Colonel  Clayborne.  The 
latter's  whole  demeanor  changed.  A  few  quick 
words  of  command  and  the  troop  was  in  motion, 
their  commander,  not  one  whit  less  impatient  than 
his  men,  in  the  lead.  Over  the  crest  of  the  hill 
they  swept,  and  in  the  valley  at  their  feet  the  bat 
tle  was  in  full  view. 

Down  the  slope  they  thundered,  their  faces  set 
sternly,  and  their  eyes  fixed  straight  before  them. 
Intoxicated  with  excitement,  rendered  wild  with  a 
new-born  frenzy  to  kill,  they  rode  like  the  tempest 
down  upon  their  foe. 

Another  shell  whistled  over  their  heads.  "  Hur 
rah  !  "  cried  Clifford  Clayborne.  "  This  is  war ! " 

"  They  are  shooting  too  high,"  called  out  Pen- 
dleton  gayly,  at  his  side. 

A  blinding  flash,  a  roar  like  an  earthquake,  and 
Clifford  gasped  for  breath.  "  That  shell  struck !  " 
yelled  the  voice  of  a  corporal  in  his  ear. 

Uninjured,  Clifford  looked  about  him.  Young 
Pendleton's  riderless  horse  was  running  at  his  side. 
Clifford  set  his  teeth,  and  with  the  Clayborne  troop 
'  rushed  forward  to  win  his  spurs. 


CHAPTER  IV 
REGINA'S  TOAST 

THIS  is  not  to  be  a  chronicle  of  battles.  He 
who  wishes  for  graphic  details  of  the  great  combats 
must  turn  to  the  pages  of  history. 

There  he  can  read  of  each  encounter  in  the  ter 
rible  struggle.  He  can  follow  the  fortunes  of  noble 
armies  sent  forth  to  melt  away  in  the  devouring 
flame  of  conflict.  There  he  can  see  the  blood- 
drenched  fields,  hear  the  cries  of  the  wounded,  the 
groans  of  the  dying,  and  count  the  thousands  upon 
thousands  of  those  who  fall  from  the  ranks  of  the 
strongest,  the  bravest,  and  finest  of  the  land,  until 
his  heart  grows  sick  and  his  brain  wearies. 

A  year  had  passed  since  the  Northern  troops 
had  fled  from  the  field  at  Manassas.  The  men 
who  had  been  through  the  Peninsular  campaign 
and  those  who  had  fought  the  desperate  battle  of 
Shiloh  no  longer  spoke  of  crushing  the  rebellion 
in  sixty  days. 

Southerners  who  had  tasted  the  mettle  of  the 
"Armies  of  the  West,"  and  who  had  seen  the 
Yankees  before  the  breastworks  at  Donelson,  no 
longer  called  those  Yankees  "  white-livered." 

Both  North  and  South  had  come  to  realize  that 
the  great  conflict  had  only  just  begun. 


52  THE  CLAYBORNES 

The  North,  with  half  a  million  men  in  the  field, 
was  preparing  to  "  fight  it  out."  The  South,  de 
fiant  and  determined,  was  entering  into  an  unequal 
and  hopeless  contest  with  that  magnificent  courage 
which  was  to  compel  the  admiration  of  the  world. 

Gordon  Clayborne  had  made  the  choice  between 
his  native  State  and  his  country.  The  struggle 
had  cost  him  dear,  but  having  decided  for  the 
Union  he  fought  for  it  with  all  the  strength  of 
his  nature.  The  summer  of  '62  found  Clayborne 
with  Grant's  army  in  the  Mississippi  Valley, 
where  he  commanded  a  company  in  a  cavalry 
regiment. 

No  matter  what  the  final  outcome  of  the  war, 
Gordon  felt  that  he  must  be  separated  from  his 
kindred  for  all  time.  During  the  months  that  had 
passed,  some  stray  news  of  them  had  reached  him 
from  time  to  time.  His  father  was  colonel  of  a 
t'roop  of  Virginia  Light  Horse.  Clifford  was  now 
a  captain,  and  two  cousins  of  the  family  were  lieu 
tenants.  "  Shoulder  to  shoulder  the  Claybornes 
fight "  had  been  the  watchword  of  the  old  colonel, 
and  they  had  fought  thus.  Gordon  heard  of  the 
"  Clayborne  Horse "  at  the  battle  of  Manassas ; 
how  the  colonel  was  twice  wounded  and  how  the 
impetuous  Clifford  had  dashed  alone  into  the  Union 
lines,  then  finding  himself  in  this  dire  peril,  had 
wheeled  his  horse  suddenly,  cutting  a  wide  circle, 
and  had  come  safely  off,  while  friend  and  foe 
cheered  him  for  his  daring. 

Gordon's  face  was  sad  as  he  thought  of  his 


REGINA'S   TOAST  53 

father's  wounds,  and  his  heart  grew  warm  at  his 
brother's  reckless  courage.  "  Blood  is  thicker  than 
water  "  is  an  old  saw,  but  it  runs  true.  Gordon 
smiled  as  he  thought  of  Clifford  on  his  black 
horse  ;  and  his  father  —  did  he  still  ride  his  gray 
charger  ?  How  familiar  the  picture  was :  the  large 
gray  horse  upon  whose  back  Gordon  himself  had 
ridden  not  many  months  before.  Not  many  months  ? 
The  time  could  not  be  reckoned  by  months  nor 
years.  It  belonged  to  a  past  age,  a  life  that  had 
no  existence  now,  except  in  memory.  Surely  it  is 
not  unmanly  for  the  moisture  to  come  to  Captain 
Gordon  Clayborne's  eyes.  He  brushes  it  away 
quickly  and  turns  to  the  duty  at  hand ;  for  Clay- 
borne  is  to  report  with  his  company  at  headquarters 
within  an  hour. 

It  is  a  bright  June  morning.  Three  men  are 
sitting  in  front  of  the  general  headquarters  at 
Corinth.  Two  of  them  wear  the  stars  of  a  major- 
general  upon  their  shoulder  straps  the  third  is  a 
staff  officer.  One  of  the  general  officers  is  tall  and 
slender,  with  a  light,  sandy  beard.  His  eyes  have 
a  brilliant,  excitable  expression,  and  he  smokes  in 
quick,  nervous  puffs.  The  other  is  short  in  stature, 
with  closely  trimmed  beard  about  his  strong,  deter 
mined-looking  chin.  There  are  lines  of  care  on 
his  forehead  and  signs  of  worry  in  his  steel  blue 
eyes,  yet  he  smokes  serenely.  He  is  dressed 
simply,  almost  meanly ;  with  a  coat  of  plain  blue 
cloth  such  as  a  private  soldier  might  wear.  His 


54  THE  CLAYBORNES 

felt  hat  is  tossed  carelessly  on  the  grass  at  his 
side. 

Each  of  these  three  officers  is  sitting  in  that 
pleasant  and  restful  position  which  a  chair  bal 
anced  upon  two  legs  affords ;  and  as  they  smoke 
their  cigars  they  converse  in  a  quiet  tone. 

"  Sherman,  my  position  here  is  becoming  in 
tolerable.  I  have  petitioned  the  government  at 
Washington  to  relieve  me  from  duty  under  Hal- 
leek.  I  am  going  to  insist  that  they  assign  me 
to  another  department." 

"  Grant,  let  me  urge  you  most  strongly  not  to 
take  this  step,"  replied  Sherman  quickly. 

"  I  have  taken  it, "  rejoined  General  Grant 
quietly. 

"You  are  making  a  serious  mistake.  As  a 
friend,  I  assure  you  that  you  are  about  to  injure 
yourself." 

"  I  cannot  help  that.  It  is  impossible  for  me 
to  work  without  the  confidence  of  my  chief.  Gen 
eral  Halleck  does  not  trust  me.  He  hampers  me 
in  my  work.  He  countermands  my  orders  —  I  am 
practically  relieved  from  command  here.  I  might 
as  well  go  elsewhere." 

"  My  dear  Grant,"  exclaimed  General  Sherman, 
laying  his  hand  upon  the  other's  arm,  "you  have 
the  confidence  of  the  nation.  You,  who  have  been 
so  patient  for  so  long,  can  surely  wait  a  little 
longer." 

"  I  am  afraid  that  the  nation  is  becoming  impa 
tient.  I  try  not  to  hear  all  the  stories  that  are 


REGINA'S  TOAST  55 

going  the  rounds ;  yet  some  of  them  will  come  to 
my  ears  and  they  cut  deeply,  Sherman." 

"  Was  I  not  called  everything  under  the  sun 
from  a  traitor  to  a  lunatic,  for  more  than  a  year  ?  " 
cried  Sherman.  "  It  was  not  until  after  Pittsburg 
Landing  that  I  was  treated  even  with  decency,  to 
say  nothing  of  justice.  If  I  bore  that  in  silence, 
you  can  afford  to  ignore  these  petty  calumnies ; 
and  you  certainly  ought  to  ignore  them  and  remain 
with  the  army  which  trusts  you  and  still  looks  to 
you  to  lead  it  to  success." 

Grant  did  not  speak  for  several  moments,  then 
knocking  off  the  ashes  from  his  cigar,  he  replied 
slowly :  — 

"Perhaps  you  are  right.  I  may  have  been 
hasty.  I  will  withdraw  my  application." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  that,"  was  the 
hearty  reply. 

"  Thank  you,  Sherman  ;  I  feel  I  can  always  get 
the  soundest  and  most  generous  advice  from  you. 
I  will  withdraw  my  application,  but  I  shall  change 
my  headquarters  to  Memphis  for  the  present.  I 
have  already  obtained  Halleck's  permission  to  do 
this." 

"  When  are  you  going  to  make  this  change?" 

"  Right  away.  In  an  hour  I  shall  be  all  ready 
to  move,  and  I  wish  you  would  ride  back  with  me. 
I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

"  Very  well.  I  '11  give  a  few  orders  to  my 
chief  of  staff  and  rejoin  you  within  an  hour,  Gen 
eral  Grant,"  said  Sherman,  as  he  withdrew. 


56  THE  CLAYBORNES 

Grant  nodded  from  behind  his  cigar. 

As  Sherman  walked  briskly  away  a  civilian 
passed  him  with  a  cheerful  salutation.  This  man 
came  up  to  headquarters  with  the  easy  grace  of 
one  who  feels  quite  at  home  wherever  he  may  find 
himself.  Benjamin  Chesterfield  was  the  corre 
spondent  of  a  St.  Louis  newspaper.  He  possessed 
the  rare  tact  and  judgment  to  send  no  news  to  his 
paper  that  would  aid  or  instruct  the  enemy,  there 
fore  he  found  access  to  military  circles  which  were 
sometimes  barred  to  journalists  of  less  discretion. 

"  Mr.  Chesterfield,"  said  Grant,  as  the  former 
dropped  into  a  chair,  "  I  'm  going  to  change  my 
headquarters  to  Memphis.  Do  you  care  to  go 
with  us?" 

"  Thank  you,  General,  I  will  go  with  pleasure." 

"  I  can't  promise  that  you  will  find  life  there 
more  exciting  than  here,  but  we  shall  be  glad  of 
your  company." 

"  Much  obliged.  I  '11  see  about  getting  my 
things  together." 

"  All  right.  See  Bowers  there  about  your  ac 
commodations,  he  will  look  out  for  you ;  "  and 
General  Grant  lit  a  fresh  cigar  and  lapsed  into 
silence.  The  pleasant  smile  that  had  shone  in  his 
eyes  as  he  spoke  died  quite  away  and  a  look  of 
serious  reflection  took  its  place  there.  Thus  he 
sat  for  nearly  an  hour,  apparently  oblivious  to  what 
was  going  on  about  him,  quietly  smoking  and 
thinking. 

It  was  a  simple  matter  to  obtain  an  interview 


REGINA'S  TOAST  57 

with  General  Grant.  He  surrounded  himself  with 
few  barriers  in  the  way  of  sentries  or  body-guards. 
At  almost  any  time,  a  person  wishing  to  see  him 
upon  business  had  only  to  approach  him  to  be  re 
ceived  affably.  So  it  was  not  strange  that  a  man 
dressed  in  prosperous  looking  broadcloth,  well-fed, 
with  a  large  expanse  of  vest  and  a  heavy  gold 
chain  across  it,  should  walk  boldly  up  to  where 
the  general  sat  deep  in  thought. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  General  Grant,  please," 
he  said  briskly. 

"  I  am  General  Grant,"  was  the  quiet  reply. 

"  Oh ! "  ejaculated  the  newcomer,  looking  at 
the  general  with  curiosity  and  ill-concealed  sur 
prise.  Then  recovering  himself  quickly,  "I  am 
Mr.  Thomas  Bulger  of  New  York.  I  have  a  let 
ter  of  introduction  to  you,  General,"  putting  his 
hand  into  his  pocket  and  drawing  forth  a  number 
of  papers.  "  Ah,  here  it  is." 

General  Grant  took  the^  letter  and  read  it. 

"  A  pretty  strong  recommendation,  as  you  see, 
General,"  the  other  went  on  pompously.  "  It  is 
signed  by  three  senators  and  five  representatives." 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  do  for  you,  Mr. 
Bulger  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,  I  represent  a  New  York  syndicate : 
men  of  means,  you  understand,  General ;  and 
although  they  are  keen  men  of  business,  they  are 
liberal,  open-minded  gentlemen.  They  have  placed 
a  large  sum  of  money  in  my  hands,  having  great 
confidence  in  my  business  ability  "  — 


58  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  Well,  what  do  you  want  me  to  do  ?  "  interrupted 
General  Grant,  with  a  slight  note  of  impatience  in 
his  voice. 

"  In  short,  General,  the  syndicate  thought  if 
you  would  give  me  a  permit  to  buy  cotton  from 
the  Southerners  —  one  which  would  allow  me  to 
go  and  come  through  your  lines  with  some  free 
dom  "- 

Grant  thrust  the  letter  of  introduction  back 
into  the  man's  hand. 

"  You  take  this  letter,  Mr.  Bulger,  and  go !  "  he 
said  sternly. 

"  What !  "  ejaculated  Mr.  Bulger  in  astonish 
ment. 

"  I  have  nothing  further  to  say  to  you." 

"  Won't  you  listen  to  what  I  have  to  propose," 
cried  Bulger.  "  Why,  do  you  know,  General 
Grant,  that  cotton  is  one  dollar  a  pound  in  New 
York  ?  One  dollar  a  pound,  sir !  .Just  think  of 
that !  "  The  speculators  eyes  glistened  greedily. 

Grant  looked  at  him  with  disgust. 

"  Now,  General,"  the  man  went  on  insinuatingly, 
"  1  stand  prepared  to  offer  you  twenty-five  thou 
sand  dollars  '  freight  rate  '  just  to  load  one  of  your 
empty  supply  trains  with  cotton  and  run  it  up  to 
the  Mississippi  River.  Now,  General,  these  cars 
are  going  back  empty  ;  what  harm  "  — 

"  Leave  these  headquarters  instantly !  "  inter 
rupted  the  general  sharply. 

Mr.  Bulger's  face  turned  purple.  He  thrust 
the  letter  back  into  his  breast  pocket. 


REGINA'S  TOAST  59 

"  Well,  General  Grant,"  he  said  in  a  voice 
trembling  with  rage,  "  permit  me  to  remark  that 
you  show  scant  courtesy  to  the  gentlemen  who  in 
troduce  me." 

Grant  rose  from  his  seat.  "  If  I  find  you  any 
where  about  the  army  after  to-day,  Mr.  Bulger," 
he  said  quietly,  "  I  '11  have  you  arrested.  Men 
like  you,"  he  continued  with  withering  scorn,  "  do 
more  to  corrupt  the  army  than  any  other  class. 
You  traders  care  more  for  a  bale  of  cotton  than 
you  do  for  the  whole  nation.  Any  man  who  pre 
sents  such  a  petition  to  me  in  future  will  be 
clapped  into  jail ;  no  matter  if  he  comes  down  here 
with  the  indorsement  of  every  member  of  both 
houses  of  Congress.  Now  I  think  I've  made  it 
clear  to  you  how  I  view  this  trading  with  the 
enemy.  You  can  circulate  my  views  pretty  freely 
among  your  fraternity.  Good-day,  sir." 

Mr.  Bulger  beat  a  hurried  retreat,  muttering 
as  he  went,  "  I  '11  tell  everybody  in  Washington 
that  I  found  General  Grant  utterly  incompetent 
through  the  use  of  liquor." 

"  You  rather  knocked  him  over,  General,"  said 
Bowers,  with  a  laugh. 

"  Perhaps  I  was  a  little  severe,  Bowers.  There 
are  a  few  things  that  make  me  mad,  and  that 's 
one  of  them.  The  men  who  are  doing  the  fighting 
don't  like  to  be  asked  to  protect  a  trade  which 
helps  support  their  enemies,  and  the  profits  of 
which  go  to  the  men  who  save  their  skins  at  home. 
If  the  Treasury  Department  sees  fit  to  give  these 


60  THE  CLAYBORNES 

permits,  I  suppose  I  can't  stop  them,  but  if  any 
fellow  comes  to  me  with  such  a  request  he  '11  find 
out  that  he  's  barking  up  the  wrong  tree."  The 
general's  mild  eye  kindled  and  he  chewed  his 
cigar ;  then  rising  from  his  chair,  he  said  :  — 

"  Here  's  Sherman  ;  he  is  always  on  time  to  the 
minute.  Now  if  the  escort  is  ready,  Bowers,  and 
Rawlins  and  the  rest  of  the  boys  are  on  hand, 
we  '11  start." 

"  The  escort  is  waiting  at  the  rear  of  the  house, 
sir,  and  here  are  Rawlins  and  the  others." 

General  Grant  sprang  upon  the  back  of  his  fa 
vorite  cream-colored  horse,  leaning  forward  for  a 
moment  to  stroke  the  animal's  neck  affectionately. 
"  What  men  are  those,  Rawlins,"  he  asked,  as  they 
trotted  out  of  the  gate. 

"Company  D,  1st  Regiment  of  Cavalry,  General 
Thomas's  division.  It  is  the  crack  company  of  the 
regiment ;  fine-looking  men,  don't  you  think  so, 
General?" 

"  Yes,  and  they  are  splendidly  mounted ;  but 
tell  the  captain  to  send  half  his  men  back  to  their 
quarters.  We  do  not  need  so  many  to  escort  us 
to  Memphis." 

"  General  Grant,  I  don't  think  it  safe.  I  think 
you  ought  to  have  twice  as  many,  rather  than 
fewer  men  for  a  ride  of  ninety  miles." 

"  Oh,  I  guess  it 's  safe  enough.  We  have  the 
country  pretty  well  cleared,  and  I  hardly  think 
there  are  rebels  in  any  force  between  here  and 
Memphis." 


EEGINA'S  TOAST  61 

"  I  don't  think  a  general  officer  ought  to  run 
the  risk  of  getting  captured,"  remarked  Rawlins. 

"  Have  it  as  you  wish,  Rawlins,  but  there  is 
not  mucH  risk.  Besides,  if  I  were  to  be  captured, 
Halleck  could  easily  make  another  general,"  he 
added,  with  a  quiet  laugh. 

The  cavalcade  traveled  for  several  hours  stead 
ily.  Grant  rode  with  Rawlins  on  one  side  and 
General  Sherman  on  the  other.  Behind  them 
came  Bowers  and  the  other  members  of  the  staff ; 
with  them  was  the  correspondent  Chesterfield. 
His  laugh  was  contagious,  and  between  him  and 
Bowers,  with  his  flow  of  spirits,  the  party  was  kept 
in  a  continual  state  of  jollity.  Bringing  up  the 
rear  was  Captain  Clayborne  with  a  company  of  the 
best  mounted  men  of  the  regiment. 

General  Grant  rode  for  the  most  part  in  silence, 
only  occasionally  asking  a  question  of  Sherman, 
or  speaking  to  the  dark-haired  Rawlins  in  a  tone 
of  familiarity.  But  if  he  talked  little,  he  was  a 
good  listener,  and  frequently  by  a  nod  or  a  ges 
ture  showed  his  approval  of  some  remark  made  by 
the  brilliant  Sherman. 

It  was  past  the  noon  hour  when,  dusty  from 
their  long  ride  and  parched  with  thirst,  they  drew 
up  in  the  shade  of  some  trees  before  a  large  hos 
pitable-looking  house  with  cool,  inviting  veranda. 

"  This  looks  like  a  good  place,"  said  General 
Grant.  "  What  do  you  think,  Sherman  ;  can  we 
do  better  than  this  ?  " 

"  I  think  we  should  be  justified  in  trespassing  to 


62  THE  CLAYBORNES 

the  extent  of  taking  a  rest  on  this  front  porch, 
and  having  some  refreshment,"  laughed  Sherman, 
"  though  I  doubt  if  we  shall  be  very  welcome." 

"Let  the  men  dismount  and  take  their  rations 
under  these  trees,  Rawlins,  and  tell  their  com 
mander  I  shall  hold  him  responsible  for  any  depre 
dations,  no  matter  how  slight." 

The  generals  with  their  staff  officers  stepped  on 
to  the  piazza.  A  white-bearded,  patriarchal  gen 
tleman  stood  in  the  doorway.  Rawlins  addressed 
him  politely  :  — 

"  Sir,  we  are  going  to  take  the  liberty  of  refresh 
ing  ourselves  in  your  house ;  but  you  need  have 
no  apprehension  about  the  safety  of  your  property. 
Nothing  will  be  disturbed." 

The  old  gentleman  came  forward  slowly. 

"  Whom  have  I  the  honor  of  entertaining  ? " 
he  asked  with  quiet  dignity. 

"  Generals  Grant,  Sherman,  and  staff." 

"  General  Grant,  I  must  inform  you  that  I  owe 
allegiance  to  the  Southern  Confederacy.  I  am  a 
non-combatant  because  I  am  too  old  to  bear  arms. 
I  have  two  sons  in  the  service,  fighting  the  enemies 
of  our  country.  I  have  no  reason  to  love  the  uni 
form  you  wear,  but  sirs,  Henry  Robertson  can  re 
fuse  no  man  hospitality  under  his  roof  as  long  as 
it  is  left  to  him ;  such  as  I  have  I  will  offer  you 
freely." 

There  was  a  quaint  stateliness  in  his  manner 
and  a  simple  dignity  in  his  speech  which  inspired 
courtesy. 


REGINA'S  TOAST  63 

General  Grant  took  the  old  gentleman  by  the 
hand,  saying  in  his  clear  voice  :  "  Mr.  Robertson, 
I  respect  the  frank  avowal  of  your  opinions.  We 
shall  try  not  to  inconvenience  you  more  than  is 
absolutely  necessary." 

The  party  sat  down  in  the  shade  of  the  veranda. 
The  venerable  Mr.  Robertson  dispatched  one  ser 
vant  to  order  a  luncheon  to  be  prepared,  while  a 
grinning  colored  boy  brought  forth  a  tray  of  cool 
ing  drinks,  and  dispensed  them  among  the  thirsty 
officers. 

"I  am  afraid,  gentlemen,  that  the  repast  I  can 
offer  you  will  be  somewhat  meagre,"  said  Mr. 
Robertson  in  a  serious  tone.  "  Last  week  a  party 
of  marauding  soldiers  from  the  camp  at  Memphis 
descended  upon  my  hen-house,  and  despoiled  me 
of  the  major  part  of  my  stock." 

"  Sherman,  those  were  some  of  your  '  vandals,'  " 
laughed  Grant.  "  Mr.  Robertson,  make  out  an 
inventory  of  the  loss,  and  give  it  to  General  Sher 
man.  I  will  see  that  he  repays  you." 

"  Very  good,  sir,  I  will  do  so,"  replied  the  old 
gentleman,  bowing  gravely. 

Grant,  who  was  sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  piazza 
with  his  back  against  one  of  its  pillars,  took  a  pad 
from  his  pocket,  and  wrote  a  few  lines,  signing 
them  with  his  name.  This  paper  he  handed  to 
Mr.  Robertson,  and  looked  at  Sherman  with  a 
twinkle  in  his  eye,  as  he  said :  "  If  any  more  of 
'  the  enemy  '  come  this  way  to  annoy  you,  show 
them  that,  Mr.  Robertson.  It  will  protect  your 
property." 


64  THE   CLAYBORNES 

"  I  thank  you,  sir,"  replied  the  septuagenarian, 
putting  the  paper  carefully  away.  Then,  rising 
from  his  chair  :  "  Will  you  do  me  the  honor  of  com 
ing  into  the  dining-room,  as  luncheon  is  about  to 
be  served  ?  " 

With  all  the  bearing  of  an  old  nobleman  Mr. 
Robertson  conducted  his  guests  to  the  dining-room. 
Two  young  ladies  were  standing  by  the  window ; 
they  appeared  undecided  whether  to  run  away  in 
fear  at  the  approach  of  the  party  of  gentlemen  or 
to  stay  and  satisfy  the  curiosity  which  was  consum 
ing  them.  The  latter  motive  proved  the  stronger, 
and  they  remained. 

A  slight  shade  of  annoyance  passed  over  the 
face  of  Mr.  Robertson,  and  there  was  a  note  of 
surprise  in  his  voice,  as  he  said :  "I  did  not  anti 
cipate,  my  dear  young  ladies,  that  you  would  give 
us  the  honor  of  your  presence."  Then,  turning  to 
the  Federal  officers,  he  went  through  the  ceremony 
of  introduction  in  his  most  polished  and  courteous 
manner. 

One  of  the  young  women,  Mr.  Robertson's 
daughter,  the  child  of  his  old  age,  a  slender  girl 
of  eighteen,  hardly  looked  at  the  gentlemen,  but 
seemed  more  than  half  inclined  to  regret  her  temer 
ity  and  to  abandon  the  field  with  her  curiosity  only 
half  satisfied.  But  the  other,  who  had  been  pre 
sented  as  Miss  Bowie  from  Virginia  and  a  visitor 
in  the  Robertson  mansion,  held  her  ground  bravely. 
She  seemed  to  enjoy  the  situation,  and  by  her  own 
self-possession  somewhat  reassured  her  more  timid 
companion. 


REGINA'S  TOAST  65 

"  Knowing  that  some  Federal  officers  had  hon 
ored  us  by  staying  to  luncheon,  Dora  and  I  did 
not  at  first  intend  to  come  down,"  said  the  elder 
one,  with  a  curl  of  the  lip,  "  but  we  were  dying 
with  curiosity  to  see  General  Sherman's  horns." 

"  I  do  not  quite  understand  you,"  said  Mr. 
Robertson. 

"  Why,  we  have  always  been  told  that  General 
Sherman  had  horns,"  replied  Miss  Bowie  naively, 
"  and  that  General  Grant  was  a  bloodthirsty 
monster." 

"  My  dear  Regina,  remember  that  these  gentle 
men,  although  enemies,  are  guests  under  my  roof, 
and  therefore  are  entitled  to  our  respectful  con 
sideration,"  said  Mr.  Robertson  in  a  tone  of  mild 
reproval. 

"  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Robertson,  I  have  always 
been  told  just  what  I  have  said  about  the  Yankee 
generals.  And  you,  yourself,  said  only  yesterday 
that  you  hoped  General  Bragg  would  soon  put  a 
quietus  on  those  two  Yankee  commanders,  Grant 
and  Sherman." 

"  I  do  trust  sincerely  that  our  arms  will  be  vic 
torious,  and  that  when  Bragg  meets  our  enemies  on 
the  field  of  battle,  the  right  will  triumph ;  but  we 
must  not  forget  our  duty  to  those  who  come  to  us 
with  the  sword  sheathed  to  crave  our  hospitality." 

"  We  Northerners  are  not  the  bloodthirsty  mon 
sters  Miss  Bowie  has  pictured  us,"  laughed  Sher 
man.  "  We  will  try  to  convince  her  of  our  ami 
ability  if  she  will  honor  us  by  remaining." 


66  THE  CLAYBORNES         «' 

"  Dora  and  I  will  stay,  General  Sherman, 
although  I  am  sorry  that  you  have  no  horns,  be 
cause  I  would  have  you  look  just  as  bad  as  I  think 
you  are,"  and  her  eyes  flashed  defiantly  at  him. 

"  And  I  would  have  you  think  just  as  well  of 
me  as  you  can,"  retorted  Sherman  facetiously. 

"  Then  drink  this  toast,"  she  exclaimed,  raising 
a  glass  of  wine,  "  '  To  the  heroes  of  the  South  : 
may  victory  be  theirs ! '  Drink  that  toast,  and  I  '11 
think  a  heap  better  of  you." 

"  I  will  substitute  another  for  that :  '  To  the 
fair  women  of  the  South,'  "  rejoined  Sherman  gal 
lantly. 

"No,"  declared  Regina  emphatically,  "you 
must  drink  to  the  brave  men  first." 

"  If  I  do,  will  you  drink  to  the  health  of  the 
Northern  armies  ?  "  continued  Sherman  in  a  tone 
of  banter. 

"  I  '11  make  no  bargains  with  you.  Are  you 
afraid  to  drink  ?  I  would  not  have  it  said  that  I 
refused  to  drink  a  toast  to  brave  men." 

"  How  will  this  toast  do,  Miss  Bowie  ?  '  To 
the  brave  men  of  both  armies  ?  '  "  asked  General 
Sherman,  raising  his  glass. 

She  hesitated  a  moment  with  a  pout  upon  her 
pretty  lips.  Then  her  face  cleared  as  she  replied 
smilingly :  "  Very  well,  General  Sherman,  as  we 
have  more  brave  men  on  our  side  I  can  consider  it 
as  honoring  us  the  most." 

Sherman  laughed  heartily.  "  Construe  it  any 
way  you  have  a  mind  to." 


REGINA'S  TOAST  67 

"  Gentlemen,  General  Sherman  has  proposed  a 
toast,"  called  Regina  Bowie,  looking  about  the 
board  with  her  fearless  eyes.  "  General  Grant, 
some  wine  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you,  Miss  Bowie." 

"  What,  you  won't  even  drink  that  toast,"  ex 
claimed  Miss  Regina  reproachfully.  "  But  perhaps 
you  don't  care  for  this  wine.  Let  me  fill  your 
glass  with  some  of  this  Kentucky  Bourbon.  Surely, 
General  Grant,  you  can't  refuse  to  drink  a  toast 
proposed  by  one  of  your  own  party,"  she  said 
artlessly. 

Rawlins  began  to  move  uneasily  in  his  chair, 
and  darted  an  angry  look  at  the  ingenuous  young 
woman. 

"  There,  General  Grant,"  continued  Miss  Bowie, 
filling  his  glass  to  the  brim  with  some  old  Ken 
tucky  whiskey.  "  I  might  have  known  that  such 
a  fire-eater  as  you  would  abjure  weak  claret.  This 
is  more  suitable  for  warriors." 

With  a  sudden  movement  of  his  elbow  Grant's 
chief  of  staff  sent  the  glass  of  whiskey  spinning 
to  the  floor.  Miss  Bowie  gave  a  cry  of  dismay. 

"  I  beg  pardon  for  my  clumsiness,"  said  Raw- 
lius.  "  I  hope  your  dress  is  not  injured." 

"  It  is  of  no  account  if  it  is  spoiled,"  she  re 
plied,  "  but  you  've  spoiled  a  good  glass  of  whiskey, 
General  Rawlins,"  and  she  looked  into  his  face 
saucily,  while  his  dark  eyes  snapped  back  at  her. 
The  imperturbable  Grant  took  no  notice  of  the 
incident.  "  This  will  suit  the  matter  in  hand, 


68  THE  CLAYBORNES 

Miss  Bowie,"  he  said  significantly,  taking  up  a 
glass  of  water :  "  God  gave  us  Lincoln  and  Liberty. 
Let  us  fight  for  both,"  and  he  drank  the  toast 
without  another  word.  Regina  looked  at  the  gen 
eral  curiously ;  then  rising  from  the  table  she  said 
with  a  calm  dignity,  "  I  '11  leave  you  gentlemen  to 
your  cigars."  She  could  not  refrain  from  giving 
Rawlins  a  half -defiant  look  as  she  passed  him ; 
and  throwing  a  coquettish  glance  at  General  Sher 
man,  walked  slowly  from  the  room,  through  the 
hall  and  out  into  the  garden.  Once  in  the  garden 
she  ran  down  the  walk  in  high  spirits,  laughing  to 
herself  as  she  ran.  She  did  not  stop  until  she 
reached  a  grove  of  pine-trees  at  a  little  distance 
from  the  house.  Through  the  shrubbery  on  her  left 
she  could  see  the  Federal  soldiers  lying  at  ease 
under  the  shade  trees,  and  the  Union  generals  who 
had  come  oiit  upon  the  veranda  to  smoke.  She 
clinched  her  hand  and  shook  it  in  the  direction  of 
the  Yankees.  Then  with  an  expectant  light  in 
her  bright  eyes  she  turned  and  looked  down  the 
road  at  her  right. 

Long  and  earnestly  she  peered  down  the  road, 
which  lay  white  and  hot  in  the  afternoon  sun.  As 
far  as  her  eye  could  reach,  over  a  gentle,  sloping 
hill  and  across  a  piece  of  level  until  it  disappeared 
into  a  bit  of  woodland  beyond,  the  road  showed  110 
sign  of  human  life.  From  time  to  time  Regina 
would  turn  her  eyes  in  the  direction  of  the  house, 
to  assure  herself  that  the  Yankees  were  still  there. 
Then  with  impatience  she  would  twist  her  head  in 
the  opposite  direction. 


REGINA'S   TOAST  69 

"  It  is  nearly  two  hours  since  I  sent  word  to  our 
friends  by  a  swift  messenger,"  she  murmured  im 
patiently.  "  Oh,  do  not  fail  me,  Jackson,  do  not 
fail  me,  as  I  have  not  failed  you."  Then  she  flew 
back  to  the  house.  In  the  library  she  found  quiet 
and  soft-eyed  Dora  Robertson,  where  she  had  re 
tired  as  soon  as  the  dominating  Regina  had  released 
her  from  the  table. 

"  Oh,  Dora,"  cried  Regina,  throwing  her  arms 
about  the  young  girl,  "  I  am  so  excited." 

"  I  should  think  you  would  be  after  having  gone 
into  the  dining-room  where  all  those  Yankee  sol 
diers  were.  I  wonder  how  I  had  the  courage  to  fol 
low  you." 

"  Pooh,  it  is  not  that  —  they  would  n't  hurt  us. 
But  just  think,"  she  went  on,  whispering  in  Dora's 
ear,  "  two  of  the  biggest  Yankee  chiefs,  Grant  and 
Sherman,  are  here  together  under  this  roof,  with 
such  a  small  escort.  What  if  a  force  of  our  men 
should  ride  up  just  by  chance  ?  Did  you  know 
Dora,  that  this  morning  there  was  a  battalion  of 
our  cavalry  not  many  miles  away  ?  It  may  be 
nearer  by  this  tune,"  and  she  walked  to  the  win 
dow  and  looked  out  through  the  half-closed  blinds. 

A  young  Federal  officer,  who,  together  with 
Benjamin  Chesterfield  and  a  few  of  the  younger 
staff  officers,  had  eaten  lunch  upon  the  large  ve 
randa,  strolled  across  the  lawn.  He  paused  under 
the  trees,  where  his  men  lay  resting,  and  spoke  to  a 
sub-lieutenant.  Then  passing  on  he  approached 
the  house,  as  if  intending  to  saunter  around  the 
building. 


70  THE  CLAYBORNES 

From  her  coign  of  vantage,  screened  by  the 
window-shutter,  Eegina  could  see  him  as  he  drew 
near.  Without  being  seen  by  him  she  could  note 
his  appearance.  She  saw  that  his  uniform,  although 
dusty  and  somewhat  worn,  set  off  a  shapely  figure, 
and  that  he  was  well-favored.  Regina  had  a  keen 
eye  for  manly  beauty,  and  looked  again  with  more 
interest ;  then  she  saw  that  the  sun-browned  and 
war-stained  Federal  officer  was  Gordon  Clayborne. 
He  came  so  near  to  her  that  she  could  smell  the 
smoke  from  his  cigar,  yet  he  would  have  passed 
by  unheeding,  had  she  so  desired.  For  a  moment 
in  her  first  surprise,  she  had  thought  of  drawing 
back  into  the  room,  but  dominated  by  a  strong 
impulse  she  felt  that  she  could  not  let  him  go,  and 
therefore  spoke  his  name* 

He  looked  up  quickly  in  the  direction  whence 
the  sound  came,  but  could  see  no  one. 

"  Gordon  !  "  she  repeated,  "  enter  the  house  by 
the  rear  door  and  come  into  the  room  on  the  right- 
hand  side  of  the  hall.  I  am  there,  in  the  library." 

He  still  could  not  see  the  speaker,  but  he  knew 
the  voice. 

"  Regina ! "  he  began,  but  the  blinds  closed 
tightly,  and,  electrified  with  amazement,  he  did  as 
she  had  bidden  him. 

As  he  entered  the  library  the  slight  figure  of  a 
girl  pushed  past  him,  but  he  did  not  notice  her. 

"Regina!"  he  cried,  "  What  marvel  is  this? 
I  am  so  taken  by  surprise  I  cannot  believe  it  is 

you." 


REGINA'S  TOAST  71 

"  This  is  a  world  of  surprises,  my  dear  Gordon. 
Is  it  more  strange  for  you  to  find  me  here  at  a 
friend's  house  than  that  I  should  ever  see  you  in 
that  uniform  and  with  those  men  ?  " 

She  stood  before  him  with  great  self-composure. 
She  spoke  in  the  low  sweet  voice  habitual  to  her, 
yet  while  she  smiled  at  him  there  was  a  bitter  note 
of  contempt  on  the  words  "  that  uniform "  and 
"  those  men." 

Gordon  looked  at  her  without  speaking.  Except 
that  she  was  now  less  the  girl  and  more  the  wo 
man,  she  had  changed  little  since  he  had  last  seen 
her.  She  was  one  of  those  who  are  not  easily 
embarrassed  or  made  ill  at  ease.  Consciousness  of 
her  own  strength  of  will,  and  a  belief  in  herself 
and  her  powers  gave  her  a  self-poise  that  rarely 
forsook  her. 

"  Gordon,"  she  said  at  length,  "  you  left  home 
without  saying  good-by  to  me.  Why  did  you  ?  " 

Her  wonderful  eyes  met  his.  He  answered 
her  with  frankness.  "  I  left  you  without  saying 
good-by,  Regina,  because  I  was  afraid  to  see  you 
again." 

"  Afraid  of  me,  Gordon  ?  "  she  echoed  softly. 

"  Afraid  that  you  might  be  able  to  dissuade 
me  from  a  course  of  action  upon  which  I  was 
determined." 

"Then  I  had  some  influence  over  you,  Gordon," 
she  said. 

"  Great  influence  —  Regina." 

"  And  yet  I  could  not  keep  you.  While  your 
brother  Clifford"  — 


72  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  Tell  me  about  Clifford !  "  he  exclaimed  eagerly. 
"  How  is  he  ?     Where  is  he  ?     And  my  father  — 
"When  did  you  see  them  last  ?    I  have  not  heard 
of  them  for  months." 

"  Your  father  is  ill "  - 

"  Wounded  ?  "  interrupted  Gordon  anxiously. 

"  No,  he  has  had  the  fever,  but  he  will  recover. 
He  is  now  back  in  Richmond." 

"And  Clifford?" 

"  Nothing  seems  to  injure  Clifford.  Bullets 
seem  to  pass  him  by,  disease  ignores  him.  He  is 
always  the  same  cheerful,  undaunted  spirit." 

Then  she  looked  into  his  face  with  a  triumphant 
expression  in  her  brilliant  eyes.  "  I  can  do  more 
than  sit  at  home,  Gordon,  picking  lint  for  the 
soldiers  or  sewing  shirts.  That  is  splendid  wo 
man's  work  and  there  are  lots  of  good  women  to 
do  it.  But  I  found  I  could  do  more  —  I  have 
done  more." 

"  What  have  you  done,  Eegina  ?  " 

"  Much  that  many  men  could  not  have  done," 
she  answered  significantly. 

At  that  moment  there  were  sounds  of  excited 
commotion  at  the  front  of  the  house. 

Gordon  stepped  suddenly  to  the  window  and 
pushed  open  the  blinds.  Regina's  head  was  at  his 
shoulder.  Winding  out  of  the  woods  about  a  mile 
distant  rode  a  troop  of  horse. 

"  That  is  one  thing  which  I  have  done,  Gordon 
Clayborne.  Through  me  the  two  most  infamous 
Yankee  generals  will  be  taken  prisoners.  Is  not 


REGINA'S  TOAST  73 

that  something  for  a  woman  to  do  ?  "  The  flush 
of  success  was  upon  her  cheek ;  her  dark  eyes 
flashed  with  elation,  and  there  was  a  ring  of  exul 
tation  in  her  voice. 

Quick  in  action,  Gordon  sprang  through  the 
window  and  was  among  his  men  in  an  instant,  giv 
ing  orders  in  rapid  succession.  The  generals  with 
their  staffs  were  already  in  the  saddle.  Grant 
looked  quietly  at  the  approaching  horsemen. 
"  There  's  a  battalion  of  those  fellows,"  he  said. 
"  I  doubt  if  they  can  overtake  us,  for  our  horses 
are  fresher;  but  we  had  better  not  linger,  Sher 
man,  if  you  are  all  ready,"  and  the  party  gal 
loped  off  down  the  road.  Rawlins  stayed  behind 
for  a  moment.  "  As  soon  as  your  men  are 
mounted,  Captain  Clayborne,  follow  us  and  protect 
our  rear.  You  may  all  be  killed  or  captured,  but 
keep  them  from  capturing  General  Grant  at  all 
hazards." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  shouted  Clayborne  as  his  men  leaped 
into  their  saddles.  Then  instead  of  retreating  he 
drew  them  up  in  line  across  the  road.  A  slight 
rise  of  ground  in  front  of  them  hid  the  approach 
ing  enemy,  but  by  the  sound  of  their  horses'  hoofs 
Gordon  knew  they  would  be  upon  them  in  a  few 
moments.  "  Men,"  he  said  in  his  decisive  way, 
"  when  the  enemy's  nose  appears  above  that  knoll 
charge  him.  We  may  surprise  and  disconcert  him 
for  a  time.  Then  turn  and  make  off  down  the 
road.  Those  who  are  not  hurt  will  probably  get 
away,  for  the  enemy's  horses  must  be  tired." 


74  THE  CLAYBORNES 

Regina  Bowie,  who  during  these  preparations 
had  stood  counting  the  seconds,  now  ran  to  Gor 
don's  side. 

"  Gordon,  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"Hold  those  fellows  in  check  for  a  few  mo 
ments." 

"  You  will  all  be  killed  or  captured.  Surrender 
to  them.  You  need  have  no  fear,  Gordon ;  I  will 
see  that  you  come  off  free." 

Gordon  had  no  time  to  answer. 

Vaulting  into  the  saddle  he  spoke  to  his  men. 
"Advance  to  that  cover  of  pine-trees.  When  I 
give  the  word  spring  forward  out  of  the  ambush 
like  so  many  fiends." 

"  Gordon,  you  are  mad  to  fight  against  fate  like 
this.  You  are  fairly  beaten.  I  do  not  want  to 
see  you  killed  before  my  eyes.  Will  you  not 
yield  ?  "  She  spoke  beseechingly,  looking  up  into 
his  face. 

At  any  other  time  her  earnestness  and  solicitude 
would  have  greatly  moved  him,  but  in  the  excite 
ment  of  the  moment  he  scarcely  heard  her. 

"  In  Heaven's  name,  Regina,  go  into  the  house. 
This  is  no  place  for  you." 

With  a  cry  of  exasperation,  she  sprang  forward. 
"  Then  if  you  won't  surrender  I  will  warn  them 
that  you  are  in  ambush  here." 

Before  she  had  gone  a  rod  Gordon  had  ridden 
to  her  side,  and  leaning  from  the  saddle  caught  her 
by  the  arm.  Leading  her  to  the  side  of  the  road 
he  held  her  there. 


REGINA'S  TOAST  75 

She  made  no  further  resistance,  but  looking  up 
into  his  face  said  quietly  :  — 

"  Remember  I  tried  to  save  you,  Gordon,  and  if 
I  had  gotten  to  them  I  should  have  asked  that  they 
spare  you." 

Gordon  let  go  her  arm  and  pushed  her  on  to  the 
bank  away  from  the  road.  "  For  God's  sake,  Re- 
gina,  retire,  or  you  may  get  hurt." 

"  Forward,  men  !  "  he  cried  in  the  next  breath, 
and  at  his  command  the  little  band  rode  straight 
into  the  teeth  of  the  advancing  foe.  It  was  a  sud 
den  charge,  a  shock,  a  whirl  and  a  retreat,  with  a 
running  fight  along  the  road.  A  fierce,  hot  fight, 
where  many  a  trooper  on  both  sides  left  an  empty 
saddle.  Then  as  Captain  Clayborne  had  foretold, 
the  Union  soldiers  —  what  were  left  of  them  — 
forged  ahead  on  their  fresh  horses,  while  the  Con 
federates  followed  closely,  firing  after  their  retreat 
ing  foes. 

Regina  watched  the  flight  and  pursuit  from  an 
upper  window  of  the  house. 

"  I  pray  the  Lord  that  they  do  capture  old 
Grant,"  she  murmured.  "  Oh,  they  must  take 
him !  " 

At  nightfall,  gray-coated,  dust-begrimed  troop 
ers  walked  their  horses  painfully  back  to  the 
Robertson  mansion.  Regina  stood  anxiously  upon 
the  veranda  to  receive  them. 

"  Oh,  Captain  Moffett,"  she  cried  in  consterna 
tion,  "  have  you  let  them  escape  ?  " 

"  They  got  away  without  our  letting  them,  Miss 


76  THE  CLAYBORNES 

Bowie.  Some  of  our  men,  having  better  horses, 
are  still  on  the  chase,  but  we  others  just  had  to 
give  up.  Our  animals  are  dead  beat  out." 

"  Do  you  think  there  is  any  hope  of  their  catch 
ing  Grant  ?  " 

"  They  '11  chase  him  clear  into  Memphis  if  they 
don't.  I  tell  you,  Miss  Bowie,  those  Yankees  are 
good  ones  to  run,  but  we  dropped  a  good  sight  of 
'em." 

"  Well,  do  you  think  there  is  any  hope  of  our 
men  overtaking  Grant  ?  " 

"  Candidly,  Miss  Bowie,  I  don't  think  there  is 
any  prospect  of  our  men  catching  old  Grant  this 
side  of  h — ,  begging  your  pardon ;  but  I  think 
they'll  find  him  there  some  day." 


CHAPTER  V 

A    HOT   RIDE   AFTER   GRANT 

BENJAMIN  CHESTERFIELD,  the  non-combatant, 
with  a  smoking  revolver  in  his  hand,  rode  in  the 
rear  rank  by  the  side  of  Gordon  Clayborne. 
"  I  'm  not  much  of  a  fighter,"  he  said  apolo 
getically  between  shots,  "  and  strictly  speaking  I 
do  not  suppose  I  am  entitled  to  take  a  hand  in  this 
scrimmage ;  but  in  an  emergency  like  this  it  does 
not  do  to  stand  upon  technicalities.  If  my  big 
carcass  can  stop  a  bullet  which  might  reach  the 
general,  why,  it 's  my  duty  to  interpose  it." 

It  was  a  hot  ride  they  had  with  the  bullets  sing 
ing  in  the  air  behind  them.  Their  revolvers  once 
emptied,  they  made  no  attempt  to  reload,  but  bent 
all  their  energies  towards  widening  the  distance 
between  them  and  the  pursuing  cavalry.  Chester 
field's  big  carcass  did  not  stop  a  bullet,  but  the 
horse  he  bestrode  gave  a  quick  snort,  plunged, 
wavered,  and  fell  to  its  knees,  to  roll  over  and  ex 
pire  by  the  roadside.  The  newspaper  man  dis 
entangled  his  feet  from  the  stirrups  and  waved  his 
hand  to  Clayborne.  "  Good-by,  I  guess  I  '11  have 
to  stay  with  the  '  rebs  '  !  "  he  shouted. 

By  Gordon's  side  galloped  a  horse  whose  sad- 


78  THE  CLAYBORNES 

die  had  been  emptied  by  the  last  volley.  Gordon 
caught  the  rein,  and  pulling  up,  galloped  rapidly 
back  to  the  discomfited  correspondent. 

"  Here 's  another  horse,"  he  said,  throwing  the 
bridle  into  Chesterfield's  hand.  "  Jump  into  the 
saddle."  The  non-combatant  followed  the  advice 
with  surprising  agility  for  one  of  his  size.  Then 
the  two  men  dashed  away  together  and  succeeded 
in  making  good  their  retreat,  but  the  call  was 
close  and  Gordon  Clayborne  had  received  a  bullet 
in  the  arm. 

"  You  got  me  out  of  a  tight  squeeze,  Clayborne," 
said  Chesterfield  tersely.  "  I  shan't  forget  it." 

Gordon's  act  had  been  done  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment.  It  was  one  of  many  thousand  similar 
deeds  which  warfare  brings  forth.  He  hardly  gave 
it  a  second  thought,  yet  the  deed  itself  cemented 
a  life  friendship. 

General  Grant  and  his  party  rode  at  the  top  of 
their  speed  for  some  time. 

"  Those  fellows  are  making  us  run  for  it, 
Grant,"  laughed  Sherman.  "  I  guess  '  you  're 
sorry  you  did  n't  take  a  larger  escort." 

Grant  looked  over  his  shoulder  at  their  pur 
suers.  "  Our  men  are  putting  up  a  splendid 
fight,"  he  said,  "  but  I  fear  the  rebels  will  capture 
them." 

"  Never  mind,  we  ought  to  come  across  some  of 
iny  outlying  regiments,  at  any  time  now.  The 
'  rebs  '  will  run  right  into  a  trap,  and  we  '11  bag  the 
whole  lot,"  rejoined  the  optimistic  Sherman. 


A  HOT  RIDE  AFTER  GRANT  79 

Although  the  pursuit  was  desperate  and  the 
Confederates  spared  neither  horse  nor  rider,  all 
their  efforts  to  overtake  the  Union  party  were 
fruitless.  The  horses  of  the  Federals,  refreshed  by 
their  recent  rest,  gradually  increased  the  distance 
between  them  and  their  pursuers,  until  finally  the 
gray  coats  were  no  longer  in  view,  and  the  sound 
of  their  horses'  hoofs  was  not  audible. 

"  Let  us  pull  up  a  little,"  said  General  Grant. 
"  I  don't  want  to  spoil  this  horse." 

The  party  slackened  its  speed  and  Rawlins 
began  to  breathe  more  freely. 

"  Some  one  must  have  sent  word  to  the  enemy 
that  we  were  resting  at  that  man  Robertson's 
house,"  mused  General  Grant  after  their  horses 
had  been  reined  up  into  a  swinging  lope. 

"  I  '11  wager  that  battalion  is  a  detachment  from 
Jackson's  cavalry,"  said  Sherman.  "  I  had  no 
idea  he  was  so  near  ;  but  it  does  beat  all  how  rebel 
cavalry  gets  over  the  ground.  You  think  you  have 
those  fellows  surrounded  in  one  part  of  the  country 
and  presto !  they  slip  through  your  fingers  and 
bob  up  in  another  place,  miles  away,  grinning  and 
ready  for  business." 

"  They  are  superb  horsemen,"  said  Grant,  "  and 
their  leaders  are  men  of  intrepid  courage  and  reck 
less  daring.  Such  men  as  Forrest  and  Stuart  and 
also  that  guerrilla  chieftain,  Morgan,  are  equal 
to  many  regiments  of  foot  soldiers.  They  have 
no  base  of  supplies  to  protect,  but  are  at  home 
wherever  they  go.  The  people  all  through  their 


80  THE  CLAYBORNES 

States  idolize  them.  They  feed  them  with  the 
best  of  their  food,  shelter  and  nurse  them  when 
they  are  sick  or  wounded.  With  a  few  handfuls 
of  parched  corn  and  a  flask  of  whiskey  in  their 
pockets  these  Southern  cavalry  raiders  can  ride 
for  days  in  the  saddle.  They  do  us  incalculable 
damage.  They  destroy  millions  of  dollars  of  our 
supplies  and  kill  or  capture  our  troops  to  the  extent 
of  many  times  their  own  number." 

"  You  are  right,"  acquiesced  Sherman ;  "  for 
every  regiment  I  had  working  on  the  repairs  to 
the  Memphis  Railroad  I  had  to  detail  another  regi 
ment  to  guard  its  supplies  ;  and  even  then  Mor 
gan's  men  carried  off  some  of  our  cattle  right 
under  our  very  noses.  And  what  do  you  think  the 
rascal  had  the  impudence  to  do?  He  sent  me 
word  that  I  must  give  my  steers  better  fodder,  for 
it  was  hardly  worth  his  while  to  carry  off  such  a 
poor  skinny  lot.  We  must  learn  to  fight  these 
fellows  with  their  own  weapons,"  and  Sherman 
laughed  jovially. 

"  I  know  of  only  one  Union  cavalry  officer  whom 
I  would  match  against  either  Forrest  or  Stuart," 
said  Grant. 

"  Who  is  that  ?  "  demanded  Sherman  with  keen 
interest. 

"  He  is  that  little  Irish  colonel,  Philip  Sheridan. 
You  keep  your  eye  on  him,  Sherman.  Some  day 
you  '11  see  him  making  the  fur  fly." 

Half  an  hour  later  the  little  cavalcade  struck 
the  line  of  the  Memphis  Railroad  where  a  regiment 


A  HOT  RIDE   AFTER  GRANT  81 

of  soldiers  were  hard  at  work  laying  track,  con 
structing  culverts,  building  trestles,  and  working 
away  like  beavers. 

"  I  think  we  can  feel  pretty  secure  now,"  said 
Sherman,  drawing  in  his  horse  to  give  him  a 
breathing  spell.  "  I  've  got  six  regiments  strung 
out  along  the  railroad  between  this  point  and  the 
city.  We  've  been  cleaning  out  a  tunnel  which 
the  rebels  blew  up  for  us." 

Grant,  who  had  dismounted  and  who  was  rub 
bing  down  the  wet  coat  of  his  handsome  horse, 
looked  up  from  his  work,  to  say  emphatically  :  — 

"  I  do  not  know  a  job,  from  the  simple  nailing 
of  a  horseshoe  to  a  stupendous  engineering  work 
or  the  most  intricate  mathematical  problem,  that 
volunteers  cannot  be  found  in  our  ranks  to  do,  and 
do  well." 

"  And  yet  these  are  the  armies  which  European 
tacticians  sneeringly  call  i armed  mobs,'"  com 
mented  Sherman. 

"  I  have  never  called  upon  these  '  armed  mobs ' 
for  any  extraordinary  service  and  found  them 
wanting,"  said  Grant  warmly,  remounting  and 
riding  along  among  the  men. 

The  two  generals  were  at  once  recognized,  and 
the  soldiers  flocked  about  them,  cheering  heartily. 
Grant,  in  particular,  was  the  object  of  their 
attentions.  The  general  bore  the  demonstration 
placidly,  until  a  group  of  enthusiastic  young 
fellows  surrounded  him  and  began  to  draw  hairs 
from  his  horse's  tail  as  souvenirs. 


82  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  Men,  fall  back  !  "  he  commanded  sternly,  and 
quickly  urging  his  steed  out  of  the  circle,  he  can 
tered  away,  followed  by  Kawlins  and  the  other 
members  of  his  staff,  who  were  laughing  heartily 
at  their  chief's  discomfiture. 

"  A  few  minutes  more  and  those  boys  would  not 
have  left  a  hair  in  my  horse's  tail,"  declared  Grant 
ruefully. 

By  this  time  Gordon  Clayborne  and  his  men 
had  ridden  up.  They  were  covered  with  dust  and 
blood,  and  showed  signs  of  the  hard  knocks  which 
they  had  received.  "  Here  we  are,  Colonel  Raw- 
lins,"  cried  Clayborne,  saluting.  "  Ten  of  our 
number  are  in  the  hands  of  the  Confederates  or 
lying  by  the  roadside,  and  those  of  us  left  are  not 
very  pretty  to  look  at ;  but  if  you  want  any  fighting 
done,  I  reckon  you  '11  find  lots  of  it  left  in  these 
fellows."  The  fire  of  excitement  still  burned  in 
his  eyes,  and  his  voice  rang  clear  and  steady,  though 
his  right  arm  hung  limp  from  the  shoulder  and 
there  were  signs  of  pain  on  his  face. 

About  noon  on  the  day  following  they  arrived 
at  Memphis.  Gordon  Clayborne's  wound,  which 
had  been  attended  to  hastily  the  night  before,  was 
more  painful  than  he  would  admit,  and  he  was  not 
sorry  when  they  reached  the  city.  Here  it  was 
given  further  attention,  and  to  his  intense  cha 
grin  he  was  told  by  the  hospital  surgeon  that  it 
would  be  a  fortnight  before  he  could  use  his  right 
arm. 

Like  all  men  of  action,  Gordon  Clayborne  chafed 


A  HOT  RIDE  AFTER  GRANT  83 

under  any  restraint  to  bodily  exercise,  and  he  in 
quired  daily  of  the  surgeon,  with  great  anxiety, 
how  long  it  would  be  before  he  could  report  for 
active  duty. 


CHAPTER  VI 

MAEJORIE   WARE 

THUS  a  week  passed,  and  Gordon  Clayborne, 
having  ample  time  on  his  hands,  amused  himself 
as  best  he  could,  which  was  little  enough,  by  rid 
ing  about  the  city  and  out  into  the  surrounding 
country.  One  sunny  afternoon  he  rode  out  a  little 
way  from  the  city.  He  guided  his  horse  with  the 
reins  in  his  left  hand,  for  the  right  arm  was  still 
imprisoned  in  its  sling. 

The  day  was  warm,  and  Gordon  sought  the 
grateful  shade  of  some  woods  that  grew  invitingly 
by  the  roadside.  He  allowed  his  horse,  with  the 
rein  on  his  neck,  to  walk  at  random  under  the 
pleasant  shade,  while  the  rider  bared  his  head  to 
the  soft  breezes,  and  drank  in  the  sweet  odor  from 
the  pine  woods.  It  was  one  of  those  moments 
when  the  most  hardened  soldier,  the  most  blood 
thirsty  fighter,  could  not  fail  to  have  his  passions 
soothed  by  the  soft  influences  of  his  surroundings. 
Gordon  Clayborne,  being  neither  hardened  nor 
bloodthirsty,  but  a  fine  young  fellow  who  had,  if 
the  truth  be  known,  quite  a  tender  heart  beat 
ing  under  his  coat,  was  in  a  meditative  mood 
colored  by  some  sadness.  Suddenly  he  was  awak- 


MARJORIE  WARE  85 

ened  from  his  musings  by  his  horse.  The  animal 
stopped,  and,  putting  his  nose  high  in  the  air,  gave 
utterance  to  a  long,  loud  whinny.  This  call  was 
answered  by  a  similar  sound  near  at  hand,  though 
somewhat  less  distinct. 

Clayborne  caught  up  the  reins  in  his  hand,  while 
he  looked  intently  toward  the  spot  whence  the 
sound  came.  There  was  a  rustle  among  the  bushes, 
followed  by  a  patter  as  of  footsteps  upon  the  leaves. 
Very  light  footsteps  they  were,  like  those  of  some 
small  animal  scurrying  away  to  avoid  detection. 

Captain  Clayborne  did  not  apprehend  danger, 
but  long  experience  develops  caution.  Quietly  he 
dismounted,  stepped  behind  a  tree,  and  as  silently 
as  possible,  from  one  tree  to  another,  worked  his 
way  in  a  half  circle  until  he  could  see  behind  the 
screen  of  bushes. 

There  is  nothing  in  the  appearance  of  a  clean 
limbed  little  Kentucky  mare  with  a  glossy  well- 
groomed  coat,  and  wearing  a  neat  side-saddle,  to 
startle  a  soldier.  Clayborne  stepped  forward,  and 
put  his  hand  upon  the  sleek  neck,  while  he  looked 
ahout  him  to  discover  the  owner  of  the  animal. 
At  his  feet  bubbled  a  spring,  cool  and  refresh 
ing,  from  its  bed  of  white  sand  and  pebbles,  and 
from  this  source  ran  a  small  stream  of  water. 
Upon  the  other  side  of  the  pool  grew  a  large  tree 
whose  friendly  Ranches  stretched  out  over  his 
head.  It  was  an  old  tree,  gnarled  and  knotted, 
with  scrubby  bushes  clustered  around  its  trunk. 

Gordon  Clayborne  felt  certain  that  behind  this 


86  THE  CLAYBORNES 

tree  was  concealed  the  owner  of  the  horse.  Now 
it  was  more  than  likely  that  she  was  aware  of 
Clayborne's  presence ;  and  if  she  was  hiding  there, 
it  was  doubtless  because  she  did  not  wish  to  be 
seen  by  him. 

Captain  Clayborne  had  not  come  into  the  woods 
with  any  idea  of  playing  hide  and  seek  with  a  mys 
terious  woman,  nor  was  he  a  man  who  would 
intrude  into  any  lady's  bower,  although  it  were 
nothing  more  than  a  bower  of  leaves.  But  in  war 
time  rules  of  etiquette  must  vary  with  the  emer 
gency  ;  particularly  as  petticoats  have  been  known 
to  conceal  trouser  legs  and  cavalry  boots,  and  a 
side-saddle  is  not  positive  evidence  that  a  woman 
has  been  sitting  upon  it.  Furthermore,  he  saw 
upon  the  other  side  at  the  water's  edge  the  imprint 
of  a  man's  boot,  and  judging  from  the  size  of  the 
footmark  it  was  a  man  of  no  small  stature. 

If  the  tree  sheltered  an  enemy,  strategy  sug 
gested  taking  him  by  surprise,  so  with  a  sudden 
leap  Clayborne  darted  around  to  the  other  side  of 
the  tree.  No  sooner  had  he  done  so  than  he  took 
a  step  backward  in  surprise,  hastily  returning  a 
pistol  to  his  belt. 

The  figure  that  confronted  him  was  certainly 
not  that  of  a  man.  The  trim  riding-habit  con 
cealed  no  cavalry  boots.  It  was  unmistakably  and 
positively  a  real  woman. 

Under  most  circumstances  Gordon  Clayborne 
was  not  at  a  loss  for  speech,  but  for  a  few  seconds 
he  stood  and  stared  at  the  young  woman  before 
him. 


MARJORIE  WARE  87 

There  are  some  scenes  which  become  photo 
graphed  in  the  mind's  eye  for  all  time,  and  forever 
afterward  Gordon  could  recall  the  picture  of  a 
large  oak-tree  under  which  stood  a  girl,  clad  in  a 
shapely  riding-habit  of  dark  blue.  She  was  per 
haps  a  trifle  under  the  average  in  height,  but  so 
gracefully  proportioned  that  she  could  never  be 
called  small.  She  looked  full  at  Gordon  out  of  a 
pair  of  deep  blue  eyes  in  which  there  was  a  star 
tled  expression,  and  the  sensitive  mouth  seemed  at 
first  inclined  to  cry  out,  but  evidently  thought 
better  of  it,  and  instead  the  lips  parted  with  the 
inquiry :  — 

"Why  do  you  spring  around  the  tree,  and 
pounce  upon  me  in  this  manner  ?  " 

"  I  beg  a  thousand  pardons,"  said  Gordon,  re 
covering  himself,  and  taking  off  his  hat  politely. 
"  I  regret  that  I  startled  you.  I  did  not  know 
just  what  I  should  find  behind  the  tree." 

"  But  why  should  you  want  to  find  any  one  at 
all?"  she  asked. 

"  I  saw  a  pretty  little  filly  in  the  woods  with 
an  empty  side-saddle  on  her  back  ;  naturally  I  was 
interested  in  discovering  the  owner.  She  might 
be  in  need  of  assistance.  In  fact,  there  is  every 
reason  why  I  should  have  wanted  to  find  her ;  but 
I  am  very  sorry  if  I  have  frightened  you,  and  I 
earnestly  crave  pardon,"  and  he  bowed  again  with 
great  politeness. 

The  lady  in  the  blue  riding-habit  looked  at  him 
more  closely  than  her  first  alarm  had  permitted. 


88  THE  CLAYBORNES 

As  she  saw  a  young  man  of  good  presence  and  gal 
lant  bearing,  wearing  the  uniform  of  the  United 
States  army,  and  with  a  wounded  arm,  she  seemed 
to  feel  somewhat  reassured. 

"I  pardon  you,  sir,"  she  replied  ingenuously, 
"  but  you  should  be  careful  in  future  how  you  offer 
assistance  to  young  women.  Perhaps  you  may 
frighten  them  more  than  you  may  aid  them." 

"  I  will  remember  your  good  advice,"  replied 
Clayborne,  smiling  pleasantly ;  "  but  if  I  might 
venture  to  give  you  a  word  of  advice  in  return,  I 
would  suggest  —  I  speak  from  the  man's  point  of 
view  —  that  when  a  person  hides  behind  a  tree,  it 
invites  pursuit." 

The  color  came  to  her  cheek  prettily.  "  Per 
haps  I  did  wrong  to  hide,"  she  said.  "  I  heard 
some  one  coming  through  the  woods,  and  I  acted 
on  the  impulse  of  the  moment." 

"  I  am  going  to  continue  my  word  of  advice," 
said  Gordon,  "  and  add  that  it  is  hardly  safe  for 
young  ladies  to  ride  alone  through  the  woods." 

"  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  doing  so,  but  this  was 
an  exceptional  case.  I  came  to  the  spring  for  — 
for  "  —  She  hesitated  strangely  in  making  so  sim 
ple  a  statement,  then  suddenly  burst  out,  "  Oh,  I 
wish  you  would  not  give  me  any  more  advice  nor 
ask  me  any  questions." 

They  were  now  standing  upon  the  edge  of  the 
pool.  For  the  moment  Gordon  had  entirely  for 
gotten  the  footprint  in  the  soft  earth.  He  was 
about  to  reply  in  some  fair  words  of  civility  when 
he  chanced  to  look  down  upon  it. 


MARJORIE  WARE  89 

"  One  question  I  should  like  to  ask  of  you,"  he 
said :  "  Can  you  tell  me  who  made  that  foot 
mark?" 

"  What  footmark  ?  "  she  inquired  quickly, 
while  the  startled  look  which  again  came  into  her 
eyes  told  him  plainly  that  she  knew  perfectly  well 
what  he  meant. 

"  That  footmark  in  the  moss  and  wet  sand  by 
the  edge  of  the  water." 

"  How  should  I  know  ?  —  it  may  be  yours  — 
or  mine.  We  have  both  been  treading  there." 

The  feigned  carelessness  of  her  reply  was  so 
very  transparent  as  to  bring  a  smile  to  Clayborne's 
lips. 

"  I  am  sure  it  is  not  mine,"  he  replied,  "  and 
I  hardly  think  it  is  yours ;  but  we  can  measure. 
Will  you  kindly  place  your  foot  exactly  on  it  ?  " 

"  I  will  not !  "  she  exclaimed  defiantly,  look 
ing  at  him  with  eyes  that  said,  "  I  could  tell  you 
all  about  it  if  I  would." 

"  You  know  who  made  it,"  Clayborne  said 
firmly,  as  he  looked  straight  into  her  eyes. 

They  did  not  flinch  under  his  gaze,  although  the 
color  came  to  her  cheeks. 

"What  right  have  you  to  question  me?"  she 
demanded. 

"  I  question  you  thus  closely  because  it  seems 
important  that  I  should  discover  who  made  those 
footmarks.  Your  whole  attitude  convinces  me 
that  you  can  throw  light  upon  the  subject,  and  al 
though  I  cannot  force  you  to  disclose  the  truth, 
it  devolves  upon  me  to  find  out." 


90  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"Do  you  think  you  are  acting  honorably?"  she 
asked  coldly. 

"  It  is  one  of  the  unfortunate  necessities  of 
war,"  he  replied,  "  that  our  suspicions  are  excited 
by  the  most  trivial  matters.  Scouts  and  spies  fre 
quently  come  within  our  lines.  Any  concealment 
suggests  hostility.  That  is  why  I  am  so  persist 
ent,  I  assure  you.  That  is  the  only  reason  for  my 
questions." 

"  And  I  assure  you,  sir,  most  solemnly,  that  I 
am  neither  a  scout  nor  a  spy."  A  smile  played 
in  the  corners  of  her  mouth  as  she  spoke,  and  she 
had  entirely  recovered  her  composure. 

There  was  something  irresistible  in  her  sudden 
changes  from  timidity  to  assurance.  If  Clayborne 
had  deemed  her  actions  suspicious,  his  misgivings 
were  lulled  to  rest  by  the  naivete  and  charm  of 
her  manner. 

The  lady  saw  her  advantage  and  followed  it  up 
rapidly. 

"  I  am  Miss  Marjorie  Ware ;  my  father  is  Gen 
eral  Ware  of  General  Sherman's  corps." 

She  spoke  with  such  frankness  that  no  man 
could  ever  have  doubted  her  for  a  moment. 

Captain  Clayborne  appeared  slightly  abashed  as 
he  replied :  — 

"  I  am  sorry  you  did  not  mention  that  before. 
I  should  not  have  annoyed  you  with  my  question- 
ing." 

"  You  did  not  give  me  an  opportunity,"  she 
answered ;  "  and  then  if  you  doubted  my  word  at 
one  time,  why  should  you  believe  it  at  another  ?  " 


MARJORIE    WARE  91 

"  I  did  not  doubt  your  word,  Miss  Ware.  You 
make  me  feel  like  a  villain  by  intimating  such  a 
thing.  Whatever  slight  suspicions  I  had,  have 
been  entirely  dispelled.  Permit  me  to  apologize 
for  ever  having  had  them." 

She  had  untied  the  mare,  and  stood  stroking 
the  pretty  creature's  soft  nose  while  Clayborne 
spoke. 

Now  she  sprang  unaided  into  the  saddle. 

"  I  pardon  you  readily,"  she  replied  gayly.  "  In 
return  I  have  a  favor  to  ask  of  you." 

"  I  grant  it  in  advance,  Miss  Ware." 

';  Do  not  make  any  attempt  to  trace  the  owner  of 
those  footprints,  which  are  neither  yours  nor  mine." 

She  looked  him  full  in  the  face.  She  did  not 
blush  this  time,  nor  seem  in  the  least  disconcerted. 
Indeed,  of  the  two  it  was  Clayborne  who  showed 
embarrassment,  and  he  hastily  assented. 

"  Do  you  promise  solemnly  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  Of  course  I  do." 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said  simply,  and  cantered  off 
through  the  woods. 

Clayborne  stood  looking  after  her,  until  she  had 
disappeared  from  view. 

"  What  a  fool  I  have  made  of  myself  !  What  a 
thundering  fool !  "  he  muttered  savagely.  "  She 
evidently  came  to  meet  some  favored  suitor  —  a 
clandestine  meeting.  What  affair  is  it  of  mine, 
however?  I  had  no  business  to  meddle  with  it. 
Miss  Ware  —  father.  General  Ware  of  General 
Sherman's  corps  "  Clayborne  stopped  his  mus- 


92  THE  CLAYBORNES 

ing  suddenly,  and  picked  up  an  object  which  lay 
half  hidden  in  the  bushes  by  the  tree.  It  was  a 
small  basket,  containing  a  plate,  knife  and  fork,  and 
a  tin  cup.  The  only  evidence  of  food  were  a  few 
crumbs  of  bread  in  the  bottom  of  the  basket.  His 
musings  took  another  sudden  turn.  "  This  is  more 
than  odd,"  he  thought.  "  Her  admirer  needs  to  be 
fed  secretly?  Doesn't  he  get  enough  at  his  mess 
table  ?  Miss  Ware  —  Miss  Ware —  what  are  you 
up  to  ?  And  what  did  I  promise  ?  They  are  tre 
mendously  big  boots  that  made  those  marks,  too. 
But  there  is  no  reason  why  I  should  not  return 
Miss  Ware  her  property,  for  it  is  evidently  hers  :  " 
and  Captain  Clay  borne  rode  slowly  away  through 
the  woods. 

Had  he  not  given  the  promise,  and  had  he  ex 
amined  the  tree  a  little  more  closely,  he  would 
have  seen  that  the  brushwood  grew  in  front  of  a 
hollow  trunk,  and  within  that  trunk,  drawn  up  as 
far  as  they  could  go,  were  the  boots  that  a  short 
time  before  had  stood  by  the  spring. 

"  Miss  Ware  —  Miss  Ware,  what  are  you  up 
to  ? "  Clayborne  repeated  as  he  cantered  back  to 
his  quarters. 


CHAPTER  VII 
IN  THE   CHINA-CLOSET 

THE  next  morning  Captain  Gordon  Clayborne, 
being  still  on  the  invalid  list,  rode  out  to  take  the 
air.  But  he  was  well  enough  to  be  dressed  cap-a- 
pie,  to  sit  firmly  in  the  saddle  upon  a  well-groomed 
horse,  and  to  ride  jauntily  away  with  a  little  wicker 
basket  on  the  pommel  of  his  saddle.  He  made  in 
the  direction  of  general  headquarters.  The  road 
was  muddy,  and  his  spirited  chestnut  horse  picked 
his  way  through  the  black  paste  as  if  reluctant  to 
soil  the  white  stockings  above  his  fetlocks. 

As  Captain  Clayborne  reined  up  his  horse  in 
front  of  headquarters,  two  men  came  out  of  the 
gate.  One  of  them  was  his  friend,  the  ubiquitous 
newspaper  correspondent,  Chesterfield.  By  his 
side  walked  a  young  sub-lieutenant,  whose  uniform 
was  spick  and  span,  with  its  buttons  as  bright  as 
polish  could  make  them.  "  Some  general's  favor 
got  him  his  commission,  I  '11  wager,"  thought 
Clayborne,  "  and  I  '11  bet  further  that  those  but 
tons  which  shine  so  brilliantly  have  never  been 
under  fire." 

In  both  of  these  conclusions  he  was  right  to  the 
dot ;  yet  if  he  could  have  read  the  young  man's 


94  THE  CLAYBORNES 

heart  he  would  have  known  that  the  lad  was  itch 
ing  to  see  some  real  service. 

Chesterfield,  who  was  always  as  cheerful  as  the 
sun,  greeted  him  cordially.  "  Well,  Clay  borne, 
I  am  glad  to  see  you  riding  about  so  sprightly.  I 
feel  guilty  every  time  I  see  that  arm  of  yours,  and 
I  would  gladly  put  my  own  in  a  sling  if  by  so 
doing  I  could  relieve  yours." 

Clayborne  dismounted  from  his  horse.  "  Oh,  it 
was  mere  chance,  Chesterfield ;  our  positions  might 
have  been  reversed,"  he  answered,  dismissing  the 
subject  with  a  laugh. 

"  Chance  or  not,  it  was  an  important  matter  to 
this  correspondent,  and  if  ever  the  day  comes  when 
I  can  render  you  a  service,  remember  that  Ben 
Chesterfield  can  be  counted  upon."  Then  without 
waiting  for  a  reply,  he  said  quickly  :  "  Let  me 
make  known  to  you  a  particular  young  friend  of 
mine,  Lieutenant  Francis  Ware,  a  son  of  General 
Ephraim  Ware." 

As  Clayborne  shook  hands  with  the  lieutenant 
he  scanned  the  young  fellow's  face  with  much 
interest.  His  hair  and  eyes  were  brown,  yet  there 
was  a  strong  resemblance  to  the  sister.  He  seemed 
so  near  her  age  that  Gordon  wondered  which  was 
the  elder.  His  uncertainty  was  pardonable,  for  the 
pair  were  twins. 

The  three  men  stood  in  friendly  talk  for  a  few 
moments.  Then  they  separated,  Chesterfield  and 
Ware  passing  out  and  Gordon  going  in,  without 
having  divulged  to  them  the  nature  of  his  visit. 


IN  THE  CHINA-CLOSET  95 

There  were  a  number  of  houses  in  the  vicinity, 
occupied  by  various  officers  ;  and  a  sentry  pointed 
out  to  him  a  small  house  a  few  hundred  yards  dis 
tant  as  General  Ware's  own  quarters.  Tying  his 
horse  to  a  post  near  by,  Gordon  stepped  on  to  the 
veranda,  where  a  sickly  vine  was  making  a  feeble 
attempt  to  climb  a  dilapidated  trellis.  The  place 
seemed  deserted,  but  Gordon  noticed  a  soldier 
walking  up  and  down  the  yard,  cooling  off  Miss 
Ware's  bay  filly.  "  She  has  been  out  riding  this 
morning,"  thought  Clayborne,  "and  I  am  sure  I 
could  tell  in  what  direction  she  rode." 

Clayborne's  knock  was  answered  by  the  young 
lady  herself.  She  recoiled  a  step  with  an  exclama 
tion  of  surprise,  while  she  blushed  visibly.  It  was 
more  than  the  soft  flush  which  comes  to  a  girl's 
cheek  at  the  moment  of  some  sudden  surprise 
or  unexpected  pleasure,  and  Gordon  Clayborne 
quickly  surmised  there  was  some  hidden  reason  for 
her  embarrassment.  He  took  a  sly  pleasure  in 
increasing  the  color  in  her  cheeks  by  holding  out 
the  tell-tale  basket,  while  he  studied  her  more  care 
fully  than  upon  their  first  meeting. 

Miss  Ware  had  doffed  her  riding-habit  for  a 
lighter  dress,  the  day  being  warm.  Her  costume 
was  of  cool  linen,  light  blue  in  color.  It  was  of 
the  simplest  make  and  texture,  yet  it  fitted  her 
dainty,  graceful  figure  so  perfectly  that  no  dress 
could  have  been  more  becoming  to  her,  no  matter 
how  costly  the  material.  This  is  what  Gordon 
thought  as  she  took  the  basket,  saying,  with  open- 


96  THE  CLAYBORNES 

eyed  astonishment,  "  Why,  where  in  the  world  did 
you  find  that  ?  " 

He  answered  slowly,  "  I  found  it  where  you 
left  it,  by  the  spring  at  the  foot  of  the  oak-tree." 

"  And  you  rode  over  here  this  morning  for  the 
sole  purpose  of  returning  it  to  me  ?  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  To  restore  your  basket  and  for  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  you  again,  Miss  Ware,"  replied  Gordon 
Clayborne. 

"  Won't  you  come  in  and  rest  after  your  ride, 
Mr.  Clayborne  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  With  all  my  heart,  Miss  Ware." 

She  led  the  way  to  a  small  sitting-room.  Gor 
don  followed,  half  feeling  as  if  he  were  intruding, 
for  the  suspicion  which  had  been  aroused  in  his 
mind  the  day  before  had  been  quickened  by  Miss 
Ware's  own  behavior  as  she  received  him.  Yet 
had  she  wished  to  get  rid  of  him,  could  she  not 
have  thought  of  an  excuse?  Gordon  Clayborne 
was  not  the  sort  of  man  to  cut  short  a  talk  with 
a  pretty  girl.  Miss  Ware  was  an  exceptionally 
pretty  girl,  and  she  had  awakened  in  him  a  very 
strong  feeling  of  curiosity  and  interest. 

"  Father  has  gone  off  to  a  military  conference, 
and  so  I  shall  have  to  entertain  you  all  alone,"  she 
said,  with  a  charming  lack  of  self-consciousness, 
adding,  "but  I  can't  offer  you  any  refreshment, 
for  Martha  has  gone  to  market,  and  she  keeps 
everything  under  lock  and  key." 

"  I  shall  not  regret  Martha's  absence,"  said 
Clayborne,  taking  the  seat  offered  him ;  "  and  with 


IN  THE  CHINA-CLOSET  97 

the  greatest  admiration  and  respect  for  General 
Ware,  I  much  prefer  to  have  his  charming 
daughter  to  entertain  me." 

"  Martha  is  a  dear  old  colored  woman,"  said 
Miss  Ware,  with  entire  disregard  for  the  compli 
ment,  "but  we  shall  soon  have  to  bid  her  good- 
by,  for  father  is  going  to  the  front  before  long  and 
I  shall  have  to  go  up  to  St.  Louis  again." 

"  Is  St.  Louis  your  home,  Miss  Ware  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  have  no  particular  home.  I  go  about 
with  father  whenever  I  can.  The  rest  of  the  time 
I  stay  with  one  of  my  aunts.  I  have  aunts  in  St. 
Louis  and  in  Washington." 

"  It  must  be  a  great  happiness  for  General  Ware 
to  have  his  daughter  with  him,"  remarked  Clay- 
borne. 

"  And  for  me,  too ;  I  love  to  be  with  him  and  I 
don't  like  to  stay  at  my  aunts',"  she  replied. 

The  conversation  followed  along  in  a  conven 
tional  way,  both  of  them  talking  about  what  inter 
ested  them  not  at  all,  both  of  them  thinking  busily 
about  what  interested  them  a  good  deal.  Now,  as 
has  doubtless  been  suspected,  Miss  Ware's  mind 
was  occupied  with  a  matter  which  to  her  was  of 
considerable  importance.  She  regretted  Gordon 
Clayborne's  visit,  regarding  it  as  rather  inoppor 
tune.  Beyond  that  it  cannot  be  accurately  stated 
here  what  she  thought  of  him.  But  his  thoughts 
about  her  are  much  easier  of  interpretation  ;  they 
ran  somewhat  as  follows  :  — 

"  Her  hair  is  light  brown  in  color ;    it  has  a 


98  THE  CLAYBORNES 

dash  of  gold ;  it  is  soft  and  wavy ;  it  is  as  glossy 
as  the  skin  of  a  fawn  ;  it  is  tossed  about  her  fore 
head  in  rebellious  and  bewitching  little  curls.  Her 
eyes  are  dark  blue;  when  she  laughs  or  speaks 
with  animation,  the  pupils  dilate,  and  her  bright 
eyes  look  still  darker.  Her  chin  is  small,  but  well 
rounded  and  firm." 

"  Miss  Ware,  is  that  little  filly  of  yours  Ken 
tucky  bred  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Clayborne,  but  I  bought  her  up  in 
Illinois.  She  is  the  sweetest  creature,  and  fleet  as 
a  bird." 

"  Her  mouth  is  small,  and  firm  too.  It  shows 
character.  It  is  a  very  pretty  mouth,"  thought 
Clayborne. 

"  How  old  is  she,  Miss  Ware  ?  " 

"  Six  years  old." 

"  I  wonder  if  she  is  as  old  as  her  brother.  She 
looks  about  twenty.  You  can  tell  a  horse's  age 
by  looking  at  its  teeth,  but  you  can  never  tell  a 
girl's  age.  She  may  be  eighteen,  she  may  be  twenty, 
two.  What  pretty  teeth  she  has  !  " 

"  Miss  Ware,  you  ride  extremely  well ;  where 
did  you  learn  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  have  ridden  all  my  life.  When  I  was 
quite  a  little  girl,  father  was  colonel  at  a  frontier 
post.  I  was  brought  up  on  the  back  of  a  horse, 
so  to  speak." 

Several  times  during  the  conversation  Gordon 
thought  he  heard  a  sound  near  at  hand  as  of  heavy 
breathing ;  once  he  imagined  he  heard  a  stifled 


IN  THE  CHINA-CLOSET  99 

sneeze.  When  a  person's  suspicions  are  aroused 
every  little  incident,  however  trivial  in  itself,  serves 
to  increase  them.  Gordon  Clayborne  had  not  come 
with  the  slightest  intention  of  prying  into  the  pri 
vate  affairs  of  the  young  lady.  He  had  some  rea 
son  to  believe  that  it  was  an  adventure  of  a  more 
or  less  romantic  nature  which  had  taken  her  to 
the  spring  the  day  before,  but  he  did  not  consider 
the  matter  any  of  his  own  business.  He  had  come 
solely  to  return  Miss  Marjorie  Ware  a  basket 
which  belonged  to  her.  True,  he  might  have  sent 
it  by  a  messenger,  but  Marjorie  Ware  was  a  very 
pretty  girl ;  by  some  she  might  be  considered  a 
very  charming  girl.  Gordon  was  of  that  age,  be 
tween  twenty  and  —  well,  we  cannot  with  any 
degree  of  authority  set  the  outside  limit  —  when 
beauty  and  charm  have  a  very  potent  influence 
upon  a  man's  action,  so  he  had  not  sent  a  mes 
senger. 

As  he  sat  opposite  Miss  Ware,  taking  a  mental 
inventory  of  her  personal  appearance,  while  he 
talked  with  her  about  the  weather,  and  discussed 
the  merits  of  her  horse,  he  had  a  strong  feeling 
that  the  most  acceptable  thing  he  could  do  would 
be  to  withdraw  as  soon  as  etiquette  permitted. 
Miss  Ware  had  given  him  to  understand  that  she 
was  alone  ;  yet  he  had  that  unaccountable  feeling 
of  another  presence  in  the  vicinity.  When  he 
heard  what  he  thought  sounded  like  a  suppressed 
sneeze  he  looked  still  more  keenly  at  Miss  Ware. 

She  was  deep  in  a  catalogue  of  the  virtues  of 


100  THE  CLAYBORNES 

Dolly  Varden,  the  little  mare.  Her  face  was  now 
as  guileless  as  a  spring  morning.  What  man  can 
look  upon  a  fresh  young  girl's  face,  with  her  eyes 
of  innocent  blue,  or  soft  brown,  or  sparkling  black, 
and  guess  what  thoughts,  what  musings,  what  fan 
cies  are  concealed  there  ?  Gordon  Clayborne  knew 
no  more  what  was  going  on  in  that  head  of  golden- 
brown  than  the  man  in  the  moon.  No,  not  as 
much,  for  that  gentleman  has  opportunities  of  ob 
servation  which  are  denied  to  us. 

Gordon  could  no  more  tell  by  looking  into  the 
demure  face  opposite  him  what  palpitations  were 
agitating  the  heart,  than  he  could  have  read  the 
hieroglyphics  on  an  Egyptian  monument.  But  when 
there  was  a  startling  crash  of  china  in  a  closet  be 
hind  him,  he  sprang  to  his  feet  with  positive  know 
ledge  that  there  was  some  one  concealed  there. 
Miss  Ware  had  also  risen  from  her  chair  in  alarm. 
Gordon  looked  from  the  closet  door  to  her.  Some 
thing  of  his  real  suspicions  must  have  been  visible 
upon  his  face.  Her  cheek  turned  pink,  although 
she  kept  her  self-control  admirably. 

"  She  certainly  carries  it  off  easily,"  thought 
Gordon.  He  was  about  to  seize  upon  an  oppor 
tunity  to  withdraw  from  an  uncomfortable  situation 
when  Miss  Ware  said  sweetly :  — 

"  Mr.  Clayborne,  I  must  take  you  into  my  con 
fidence." 

Gordon  Clayborne,  usually  so  gallant  and  so 
much  at  ease,  flushed  slightly,  and  replied  rather 
stiffly :  "  I  do  not  ask  for  your  confidence  in  such 


IN  THE  CHINA-CLOSET  101 

a  matter,  Miss  Ware.  I  really  think  I  had  better 
bid  you  good-day,  and  relieve  you  of  my  presence." 

She  produced  from  the  pocket  of  her  blue  linen 
dress  a  key  and  held  it  out  to  him. 

"  Here,  Mr.  Clayborne,  will  you  please  open 
that  closet  door  ?  " 

"  Really,  Miss  Ware,  I  assure  you  it  is  no  con 
cern  of  mine,  whoever  may  be  concealed  behind 
that  door.  I  trust  you  will  exonerate  me  of  any 
desire  to  intrude  -upon  you." 

She  came  up  to  him  and  pressed  the  key  into 
his  hand.  "  I  insist  that  you  open  that  door  at 
once,  Mr.  Clayborne,"  she  said,  with  a  gesture  of 
command. 

Gordon  Clayborne  had  never  before  found  him 
self  in  a  like  predicament.  He  was  not  accustomed 
to  the  role  of  confidant  in  the  love  affairs  of  young 
ladies,  but  it  was  a  difficult  matter  to  decline  a 
command  so  peremptorily  given  by  a  pretty  girl. 
He  took  the  key,  unlocked  and  threw  back  the 
door  to  its  full  width. 

In  the  closet,  amid  some  pieces  of  crockery 
which  in  the  darkness  he  had  knocked  to  the  floor, 
stood  as  black  an  African  as  ever  wore  the  badge 
of  serfdom. 

Gordon  gave  a  gasp  of  surprise,  then  said 
sternly :  "  You  black  rascal,  what  are  you  doing 
there  ?  Come  out  at  once !  " 

"  Yas,  suh,  yas,  suh,  I  'se  cummin'  right  outer 
yeah,  'deed  and  'deed  I  is,"  and  the  big  negro 
stepped  sheepishly  forward.  "  I  'se  turrible  sorry 


102  THE  CLAYBORNES 

I  dun  broke  all  dat  crock'ry,  Miss  War' ;  I  cer 
tainly  is." 

Miss  Ware  came  close  to  Gordon  to  say  in  a  low 
tone :  — 

"  Mr.  Clayborne  this  poor  fellow  is  a  fugitive 
slave  who  has  escaped  into  our  lines.  I  consider 
General  Halleck's  order  that  slaves  must  be  ex 
cluded  from  our  lines  because  they  carry  informa 
tion  to  the  enemy  as  grossly  unjust.  I  have  been 
helping  this  unfortunate  one.  You  are  now  in 
possession  of  my  secret.  I  beseech  you  not  to 
betray  it." 

Clayborne  broke  out  in  a  laugh. 

"  Heavens,  Miss  Ware,  you  don't  think  I  am  a 
negro-catcher,  do  you  ?  " 

His  look  and  tone  and  hearty  laugh  reassured 
her  at  once.  The  expression  of  anxiety  upon  her 
face  gave  place  to  one  of  radiance.  "  I  did  not 
know  but  what  you  would  think  that  your  duty 
as  an  army  officer  "  —  she  began.  He  interrupted 
her  with  an  impetuous  gesture.  "  I  would  not  go 
about  spying  for  negroes  for  any  one.  If  I  were 
ordered  by  my  superiors  to  expel  one  from  the 
lines  I  should  do  it  without  question,  but  otherwise 
you  could  fill  your  whole  house  with  them  and  I 
should  never  see  one."  Then  looking  at  her  closely, 
he  continued:  "  So  this  is  what  you  were  about 
when  I  met  you  yesterday  at  the  spring  ?  " 

She  nodded  assent. 

"  I  thought  it  was  an  entirely  different  matter," 
he  replied  drolly. 


IN  THE  CHINA-CLOSET  103 

She  had  a  pretty  trick  of  blushing  which  was 
enchanting  to  look  upon.  "  It  had  just  dawned 
upon  me  that  you  did.  I  could  not  allow  any  one 
to  entertain  such  a  false  idea  of  me,  and  so  I  was 
obliged  to  take  you  into  my  confidence,"  she  re 
plied  naively. 

Gordon  laughed  again.  For  some  reason  he 
felt  both  relieved  and  pleased. 

"  I  felt  very  much  annoyed  that  you  should  dis 
cover  my  secret,  Mr.  Clayborne,"  the  young  lady 
continued,  "  but  I  forgive  you  now,  you  have  been 
so  very  considerate." 

The  negro,  who  had  been  standing  uncomfort 
ably  shifting  from  one  big  foot  to  the  other,  now 
realized  that  he  was  not  to  be  summarily  dealt 
with  by  the  officer. 

"  De  Lawd  bless  you,  Marse  Claybun,  de  Lawd 
will  certainly  bless  you  for  you  goodness  to  dis 
yeah  nigger,"  he  exclaimed  with  effusion. 

"  That  is  all  right,"  answered  Gordon  shortly. 
"  I  hope  you  are  worth  half  the  trouble  this  lady 
has  taken  for  you.  What  is  your  name  ?  " 

"  Ma  name  's  Apollo,  Marse,  an'  I  'se  wuf  con- 
sid'ble." 

"  Apollo,"  said  Miss  Ware,  "  go  back  into  the 
closet,  and  conceal  yourself  until  I  can  think  of 
something  to  do  for  you,  and  mind,  Apollo,  don't 
you  break  anything  more." 

"  Miss  War',  I  '11  conceal  ma  person  jes'  ez  small 
ez  I  kin,  but  for  de  Lawd's  sake,  Miss,  doan't  yer 
let  de  sojer  troops  sen'  me  back ;  "  and  Apollo's 
big  form  disappeared  into  the  closet. 


104  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  I  don't  see  what  I  am  to  do  with  him,"  sighed 
Marjorie.  "  He  is  so  big.  I  have  been  feeding 
him  for  two  days,  and  he  eats  so  much !  " 

Gordon's  laugh  seemed  to  indicate  a  lack  of 
sympathy.  "  I  think,  Miss  Ware,  you  had  better 
allow  me  to  turn  this  fellow  over  to  the  provost 
marshal.  Indeed,  you  will  find  him  an  elephant 
on  your  hands." 

"  How  can  you  suggest  such  a  thing ! "  she 
cried,  her  eyes  flashing.  "  I  will  shelter  him  as 
long  as  I  can.  I  will  feed  him  as  long  as  I  can 
procure  an  ounce  of  food." 

Gordon  looked  at  her  with  the  same  peculiar 
smile  on  his  lips.  "  You  cannot  keep  him  hidden 
twenty-four  hours,  Miss  Ware." 

"I  think  you  are  very  ungenerous,  Mr.  Clay- 
borne,  to  speak  like  this,  particularly  after  you 
have  been  so  kind.  I  had  begun  to  hope  you 
would  aid  me.  Now  I  see  I  cannot  look  to  any 
one  for  help." 

"  I  '11  tell  you  what  I  will  do,  Miss  Ware.  If 
you  can  keep  this  dark-skinned  Apollo  hidden  until 
nightfall,  I  will  send  a  couple  of  soldiers  who  will 
see  that  he  is  escorted  through  our  lines  to  the 
river.  He  can  get  on  one  of  the  boats  and  find 
plenty  of  work  to  do.  They  are  using  lots  of 
negroes  in  that  way  as  contrabands." 

"Will  you  really,  Mr.  Clayborne?"  cried 
Marjorie,  with  a  note  of  pleasure  in  her  voice. 

"  I  will,  Miss  Ware,  if  you  wish  it." 

"  Wish  it,"  she  cried,  "  I  wish  it  of  all  things 
in  the  world.  Oh,  you  have  made  me  so  happy." 


IN  THE   CHINA-CLOSET  105 

Clayborne  regarded  her  smilingly.  "  So  you 
are  an  Abolitionist?"  he  inquired  in  a  tone  of 
great  interest. 

"  Of  course  I  am,"  she  answered,  opening  wide 
her  blue  eyes ;  "  are  n't  you  ?  " 

"  No,  not  I !  " 

"  No,"  she  repeated,  "  and  yet  you  are  fighting 
to  abolish  slavery." 

"  I  am  fighting  to  preserve  the  Union.  I  am 
obeying  my  oath  as  an  officer,"  he  replied  em 
phatically. 

Marjorie  Ware  looked  up  into  his  face.  Her 
head  did  not  come  higher  than  his  shoulder,  and 
to  him  she  seemed  very  small  and  delicate.  There 
was  a  light  of  intense  earnestness  in  her  eyes  and 
her  mouth  wore  its  most  determined  expression, 
as  she  said  :  — 

"  You  and  many  other  brave  men  like  you  are 
fighting  to  abolish  slavery.  You  may  not  know 
it,  but  you  are  all  Abolitionists"  She  spoke  with 
that  tone  of  conviction  which  is  in  a  woman's 
voice  when  she  decides  a  point  admitting  of  no 
argument. 

Gordon  Clayborne  did  not  attempt  any  reply. 
To  tell  the  truth,  he  was  more  interested  in  look 
ing  at  the  fair  logician  than  in  following  the 
thread  of  her  logic. 

"  But  you  will  take  care  of  poor  Apollo,"  she 
said  quickly. 

"  I  certainly  will,  Miss  Ware." 

"You  are   very  kind,  Mr.   Clayborne,  and   I 


106  THE  CLAYBORNES 

appreciate  your  kindness."  She  held  out  her 
hand  to  him  in  her  frank,  open  way.  "  I  hope 
you  will  come  and  see  me  again  and  let  me  thank 

you." 

"  I  certainly  will  come  and  see  you  again,  Miss 
Ware,  since  you  give  me  the  permission."  Then 
raising  his  voice  he  called  out  sternly :  "  Apollo, 
you  rest  easy  there  and  don't  you  allow  a  square 
inch  of  your  black  hide  to  be  seen  by  any  one  until 
I  send  for  you." 

"  Lawdy,  Marse  Claybun,  I  '11  stay  yeah,  jes' 
lak  I  'se  a  log,"  came  in  muffled  tones  from  behind 
the  door. 

Gordon  took  leave  of  Miss  Marjorie  Ware,  and 
as  he  rode  off,  said  to  himself,  smilingly :  "  She  is 
a  red-hot  little  Abolitionist,"  and  then  as  he  con 
tinued  musing :  "  I  think  my  mother,  if  she  were 
here,  would  be  an  Abolitionist  also." 


CHAPTER  VHI 

A    SUDDEN    PARTING 

GENERAL  GRANT  was  going  down  to  the  seat 
of  active  operations  once  more,  and  Clayborne, 
who  no  longer  wore  his  arm  in  a  sling,  was  antici 
pating  the  honor  of  again  commanding  his  body 
guard.  He  was  looking  forward  to  the  change  with 
the  expectancy  which  the  vigorous,  active  man  takes 
in  the  thought  of  employment. 

The  few  weeks  he  had  passed  in  Memphis  had 
been,  nevertheless,  spent  most  pleasantly.  Chance, 
assisted  by  some  design  on  his  own  part,  had  en 
abled  him  to  see  a  good  deal  of  Marjorie  Ware. 
He  had  punctiliously  kept  the  promise  he  had  made 
to  her,  and  Apollo  had  been  expelled  from  the 
lines  in  a  manner  which  gave  him  an  opportunity 
to  get  on  board  one  of  the  boats  plying  the  Missis 
sippi  in  the  Union  service.  By  this  act  Gordon 
won  the  everlasting  gratitude  of  the  negro  and, 
what  was  of  greater  moment,  the  high  regard  of 
Marjorie  Ware. 

The  young  lady  had  spent  a  number  of  the  years 
of  her  short  life  in  the  environment  of  the  army, 
on  the  frontier,  where  she  had  learned  to  manage 
a  horse  and  handle  a  rifle  with  equal  dexterity. 


108  THE  CLAYBORNES 

She  was  passionately  fond  of  horses,  and  few 
were  the  days  when  she  did  not  ride  out  on  her 
favorite  little  filly,  "  Dolly  Varden."  Gordon 
Clayborne  not  only  had  a  keen  appreciation  for 
beauty,  but  he  knew  a  good  horse  when  he  saw  it. 
The  one  he  rode  was  a  thoroughbred  of  his  own 
purchase,  and  somehow  he  managed  frequently  to 
ride  in  company  with  the  general's  daughter. 

The  life  of  unrestraint  and  freedom,  which  the 
young  girl  had  enjoyed  while  living  on  the  plains, 
had  bred  in  her  an  artlessness  which,  added  to  the 
natural  frankness  and  sincerity  of  her  nature,  made 
her  companionship  most  refreshing.  All  the  Clay- 
bornes  had  the  faculty  of  turning  a  pretty  compli 
ment,  and  in  the  attractive  Marjorie,  Gordon  would 
have  found  a  charming  subject  for  these  graceful 
courtesies,  except  that  she  either  unconsciously  or 
willfully  ignored  them.  His  most  graceful  shafts 
fell  pointless  to  the  ground  before  the  armor  of 
her  indifference.  So  the  poor  fellow  gave  up  in 
despair  trying  to  please  her  in  this  way,  and  when 
the  habit  became  too  strong  within  him,  was  forced 
to  give  it  vent  by  praising  the  good  points  of  her 
filly,  which  attention  Marjorie  seemed  to  appre 
ciate  thoroughly.  Yet  the  young  lady  was  not 
indifferent  to  Gordon  Clayborne.  She  liked  his 
society ;  she  showed  it  in  her  frank  way,  and  the 
time  passed  very  pleasantly  in  the  lull  of  warfare, 
while  the  wound  in  the  soldier's  arm  was  healing 
rapidly. 

It  was   with   mingled   feelings   of   satisfaction 


A  SUDDEN  PARTING  109 

and  regret  that  Clayborne  received  orders  to  hold 
himself  in  readiness  to  go  down  to  Corinth. 
His  spirits  had  no  sooner  leapt  up  at  the  thought 
of  going  to  the  front,  than  Marjorie  Ware's  golden- 
brown  head  recalled  itself  to  his  inward  eye.  He 
had  just  come  out  of  the  adjutant's  office  when  he 
decided  to  go  and  see  her  and  bid  her  good-by. 
The  distance  to  General  Ware's  house  was  about 
a  mile,  but  Gordon  set  out  on  foot  rather  than 
take  the  trouble  to  send  for  his  horse,  which  was 
at  his  own  quarters.  He  had  not  gone  more  than 
half  the  distance  when  he  saw  in  front  of  him  the 
young  lady  who  was  in  his  thoughts.  While  she 
was  still  afar,  he  had  caught  sight  of  the  well- 
known  figure  walking  rapidly  with  free  swinging 
step,  and  he  knew  instantly  it  was  Marjorie, 
although  as  a  rule  she  went  about  on  horseback, 
and  rarely  walked  in  the  city  alone. 

She  was  preoccupied,  and  was  not  aware  of  his 
presence  until  he  was  close  upon  her.  Then  she 
looked  up  with  a  smile  of  recognition.  Before  he 
could  greet  her  a  soldier  brushed  between  them, 
jostling  the  young  lady  somewhat  rudely.  The 
fellow,  although  not  drunk,  had  evidently  been 
drinking,  and  the  apology  was  either  not  forth 
coming  or  was  delayed.  Gordon's  hot  blood  flashed 
up  in  an  instant.  His  right  hand  shot  out  and 
knocked  the  lout  down  into  the  gutter,  where  he 
lay  like  a  felled  ox.  Marjorie  gave  a  cry  of  dismay. 
"  Oh,  you  have  killed  him,  Mr.  Clayborne." 

"If  I  have,  it  is  no  more  than  he  deserved," 
replied  Gordon  warmly. 


110  THE   CLAYBORNES 

Marjorie,  who  could  not  bear  to  see  the  meanest 
creature  suffer,  bent  over  the  man  with  anxiety. 
Gordon  endeavored  to  reassure  her.  "  I  reckon 
he 's  not  dead ;  you  can't  kill  these  fellows  so  easily, 
Miss  Ware."  Nevertheless,  he  helped  the  man  to 
rise  with  some  feeling  of  compunction  at  having 
punished  him  so  severely. 

The  fellow  came  up  rather  dazed,  but  beyond  a 
lump  on  his  forehead  the  size  of  a  hen's  egg,  he 
was  not  injured. 

Gordon  pressed  a  dollar  into  his  hand,  saying 
sternly :  "  Now,  sir,  go  along  with  you,  and  let 
this  teach  you  not  to  jostle  a  lady  in  the  street 
without  offering  an  apology."  The  soldier,  glad 
to  be  quit  of  the  encounter  so  easily,  disappeared 
at  once. 

"  You  hardly  gave  him  time  to  apologize,  Mr. 
Clayborne,"  said  Marjorie  ;  "  but  I  suppose  he  was 
intoxicated,  and  did  not  care  where  he  went  or 
whom  he  collided  with." 

"  He  touched  you,  Miss  Ware,  and  I  just  could 
not  help  striking  him,  indeed,  I  could  not,"  replied 
Gordon  fervently ;  "  but  I  'm  sorry  for  him  if  you 
are.  I  hope  you  're  not  offended  with  me." 

In  the  look  and  smile  which  she  gave  him  there 
was  a  touch  of  admiration,  as  she  said :  "  Of 
course  I  am  not  offended  with  you,  Mr.  Clay- 
borne." 

Gordon  saw  a  shadow  follow  the  smile  on  her 
face,  and  said  quickly :  — 

"  You  have  something  troubling  you,  Miss  Ware. 
Tell  me  what  it  is." 


A  SUDDEN  PARTING  111 

"  My  father's  health  has  become  so  poor  that  he 
has  been  relieved  of  his  command  and  ordered  to 
Washington." 

"  I  am  very,  very  sorry,"  said  Gordon,  with 
sympathy. 

"  You  see,  I  don't  know  how  I  feel  about  it," 
Marjorie  continued.  "  I  'm  sorry  for  my  father, 
who  is  broken-hearted  at  being  obliged  to  give  up 
his  command.  I  am  worried  about  him,  too ;  still, 
I  cannot  help  feeling  a  little  glad,  for  he  will  be 
safe  in  Washington;  and  yet  I  suppose  that  is 
weak  and  selfish  of  me,"  she  went  on,  all  in  one 
breath.  Then  she  looked  up  into  his  face,  saying 
with  a  droll  little  smile,  "  You  don't  know  what  it 
is  to  be  torn  by  so  many  conflicting  emotions,  do 
you,  Mr.  Clay  borne  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  protested  Gordon,  "  for  I  have 
been  ordered  to  the  front,  and  I  have  got  to  say 
good-by  to  you." 

They  had  been  walking  towards  General  Ware's 
quarters,  and  here  they  reached  the  gate. 

"  You  were  coming  to  say  good-by,"  exclaimed 
Marjorie,  stopping  suddenly,  "  and  I  am  never 
going  to  see  you  again  ?  "  There  was  a  note  of 
real  regret  in  her  voice,  which  she  made  no  at 
tempt  to  conceal. 

"  Yes,  you  will,  Miss  Ware.  I  shall  certainly 
find  you  again.  When  this  war  is  over,  I  shall 
come  to  Washington,  or  St.  Louis,  or  wherever 
you  may  be  ;  and  —  and  you  won't  forget  me, 
meanwhile,  will  you?" 


112  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  Why,  Mr.  Clayborne  !  is  anything  the  matter  ? 
You  are  becoming  so  pale  !  "  cried  Marjorie  in 
alarm. 

"  The  fact  is,  Miss  Ware,  I  forgot  and  hit  that 
fellow  with  my  right  hand.  I  fear  I  have  re 
opened  that  old  wound,"  Gordon  answered,  smil 
ing  grimly. 

"  Oh,  let  me  call  the  surgeon  at  once !  "  she 
cried  in  sympathy. 

"  No,  indeed,  Miss  Ware  ;  the  pain  will  pass  in 
a  moment.  I  don't  think  it  is  serious,  and  the 
surgeon  might  say  that  I  was  unfit  to  go  with  my 
company  to-morrow." 

She  looked  at  him  with  compassion.  "  But  you 
hurt  yourself  in  my  behalf,"  she  insisted,  "  and  it 
may  be  more  serious  than  you  are  willing  to  admit. 
Won't  you  please  come  and  see  the  surgeon  ?  " 

"  No,  Miss  Ware,  not  now.  I  must  be  going. 
I  am  not  thinking  of  the  hurt  at  present.  I  shall 
manage  to  see  you  again  to-morrow,  to  say  a  final 
good-by." 

Gordon  Clayborne  did  have  an  opportunity  to 
repeat  his  good-by  on  the  morning  following. 
Marjorie  promised  not  to  forget  him  ;  she  agreed 
to  write  to  him  ;  and  then  they  were  separated  by 
that  relentless  destiny  which  so  constantly  comes 
into  the  lives  of  human  beings,  and  drives  them 
apart  just  when  they  would  ask  for  a  little  more 
indulgence  in  the  way  of  time. 

Miss  Ware  went  with  the  general  to  Washing 
ton,  and  the  wound  in  Gordon's  arm  did  not  pre- 


A  SUDDEN  PARTING  113 

vent  him  from  riding  away  with  his  company. 
The  limb  was  quite  stiff  for  a  week,  and  though 
he  made  no  complaint,  he  was  obliged  to  favor  it. 
And  if  he  had  received  any  deeper  wounds,  he 
managed  to  hide  them  also;  for  no  man  in  the 
regiment  was  of  lighter  heart  or  more  joyous  cour 
age  than  Gordon  Clayborne. 


CHAPTER  IX 

A   FEW    OLD    LETTERS 

DURING  the  summer  and  the  winter  which  fol 
lowed,  the  only  record  I  have  of  Captain  Gor 
don  Clayborae's  acquaintance  with  Miss  Marjorie 
Ware  is  contained  in  some  letters. 

These  letters  are  penned  in  the  bold,  firm  hand 
of  a  young  man,  and  in  the  more  delicate  writ 
ing  of  a  young  woman.  As  they  were  found  tied 
together  in  one  package,  it  is  with  a  feeling  of 
some  delicacy  that  I  undo  the  knot  which  binds 
them,  because  the  very  nature  of  a  written  paper 
sent  under  seal  suggests  a  confidential  communi 
cation.  Letters  are  rarely  intended  for  other  eyes 
than  of  those  to  whom  they  are  addressed.  But  in 
this  instance,  these  epistles  of  youthful  friendship 
are  used  to  complete  and  fill  out  the  thread  of  the 
narrative;  so  I  untie  the  ribbon  and  place  the 
contents  of  the  letters  before  the  reader's  eye. 

The  ribbon  that  was  wound  about  this  little 
packet  has  long  since  faded  beyond  all  recogni 
tion  of  its  original  hue,  the  paper  is  yellow,  and 
the  ink  is  dim  ;  the  man's  hand  which  wrote  the 
lines  has  now  laid  aside  the  sword,  and  the  soft 
brown  hair  of  the  girl  is  a  softer  gray;  but  the 


A  FEW  OLD  LETTERS  115 

hearts  that  dictated  the  letters  are  as  warm  to-day 
as  they  were  then,  for  years  cannot  dim  nor  age 
wither  the  true  spirit  of  life. 

ARMY  OF  THE  TENNESSEE,  September  — ,  1862. 

MY  DEAR  Miss  WARE,  —  After  you  left  Mem 
phis,  and  I  saw  the  steamer  go  off  up  the  river, 
I  went  back  to  camp,  feeling  as  deep  a  blue  as 
the  color  of  a  riding-costume  I  had  known.  I  do 
not  know  what  I  should  have  done,  if  I  had  been 
obliged  to  remain  long  in  Memphis  after  you  left 
it.  I  had  not  realized  before  how  dreadfully  unin 
teresting  the  town  was,  and  how  wearisome  garri 
son  life  could  be.  The  city  seemed  pleasant  while 
you  were  in  it ;  life  in  the  camp  was  not  dull. 

I  rejoiced  greatly  when  I  was  sent  off  to  rejoin 
my  regiment.  I  should  have  written  you  before, 
but  two  things  prevented.  Almost  immediately  I 
was  ordered  to  go  upon  a  small  expedition  to  the 
Tennessee  River.  I  had  an  accident  at  the  very 
start.  I  am  an  unlucky  fellow,  but  I  am  evidently 
destined  to  die  by  neither  the  bullet  nor  by  water. 
This  time  I  was  in  the  water  so  long  that  a  chill 
resulted,  and  I  was  laid  up  in  the  hospital  for  sev 
eral  weeks. 

We  have  also  had  a  skirmish.  It  was  a  small 
affair.  You  will  hardly  have  seen  it  mentioned 
in  the  papers. 

There  are  rumors  that  another  battle  will  be 
fought  soon.  I  saw  General  Grant  yesterday,  rid 
ing  about  the  fortifications.  I  see  him  frequently 


116  THE  CLAYBORNES 

engaged  in  inspecting  our  defenses,  and  in  battle 
he  is  always  where  the  "  firing  is  heaviest ;  "  yet 
some  people  who  remain  in  Washington,  and  who 
are  themselves  more  familiar  with  the  smell  of  a 
whiskey  flask  than  they  are  with  the  smell  of  gun 
powder,  still  declare  that  he  is  incompetent,  and 
that  he  drinks.  If  you  meet  any  of  these  villifiers, 
just  give  them  a  piece  of  your  mind  in  your  most 
emphatic  manner. 

I  hope  that  I  shall  soon  hear  from  you,  and 
that  you  will  tell  me  how  you  like  Washington, 
what  you  are  doing,  how  you  are  ;  and  how 
"  Dolly  "  is.  Do  you  take  a  daily  canter  on  the 
pretty  filly  ?  I  shall  never  forget  our  rides  about 
Memphis.  I  miss  those  rides  very  much.  It  was 
such  a  great  pleasure  for  me  to  take  them,  that  I 
shall  always  think  kindly  of  the  bullet  which  put 
me  on  the  hospital  list  and  made  those  rides  pos 
sible.  I  do  not  know  when  you  and  I  shall  meet 
again,  but  I  feel  sure  that  I  shall  certainly  see 
you  again  some  day.  In  the  mean  time  I  shall  do 
my  best  to  be  worthy  of  your  friendship.  To  pos 
sess  your  regard  and  esteem  will  always  be  the 
ambition  of 

Your  sincere  friend, 

GORDON  CLAYBORNE. 

WASHINGTON,  D.  C.,  September  — ,  1862. 

MY  DEAR  MR.  CLAYBORNE,  —  I  read  about  the 
battle  in  the  newspapers,  and  before  then  I  had 
heard  something  about  you.  I  was  beginning  to 


A  FEW  OLD  LETTERS  117 

wonder  why  I  had  heard  nothing  from  you,  for 
you  had  declared  so  positively  that  you  were  going 
to  write  me  at  once.  I  will  confess  that  I  was 
somewhat  piqued  at  the  thought  that  you  should 
have  so  soon  forgotten  me,  when  one  day  I  picked 
up  a  newspaper  and  learned  all  about  the  "  acci 
dent  "  of  which  your  letter  brings  me  such  meagre 
news.  Luckily  the  newspaper  correspondent,  who 
signs  himself  B.  C.  and  who  is  evidently  a  man  of 
discernment,  gives  the  world  a  true  account  of  your 
accident ;  and  lest  you  are  not  informed  as  to  the 
facts  of  the  case,  I  send  you  the  clipping  from  the 
paper,  so  that  you  may  read  Mr.  B.  C.'s  own  words. 
"On  the  night  of  August  —  a  small  body  of 
men  were  sent  out  to  make  a  reconnoissance  on 
the  eastern  side  of  the  Tennessee  River.  The  party 
was  in  command  of  Major  Rand,  and  consisted  of 
Companies  D  and  K,  1st  Cavalry,  the  latter  com 
pany  under  the  command  of  Captain  Gordon  Clay- 
borne.  While  in  the  act  of  embarking  upon  a 
small  steamboat,  Major  Rand  slipped  from  the 
gang-plank  and  fell  between  the  steamer  and  the 
river  bank.  The  gap  into  which  the  unfortunate 
officer  fell  was  barely  two  feet  wide,  with  a  con 
siderable  current  running  through  it.  The  night 
was  so  intensely  dark,  that  although  lanterns  were 
at  once  lowered  no  trace  of  Major  Rand  could  be 
discovered,  and  as  no  cries  came  up  from  the  black 
crevice  at  their  feet,  his  comrades  feared  that  he 
had  been  stunned  by  the  fall  and  carried  off  down 
the  river  by  the  current. 


118  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  The  engineer  was  on  the  point  of  starting  the 
boat  from  the  shore  in  order  that  a  final  but 
almost  hopeless  search  might  be  made  for  the  miss 
ing  man,  when  Captain  Clayborne,  the  second  in 
command,  came  upon  the  scene.  He  instantly  for 
bade  the  engineer  to  move  lest  the  paddle-wheels 
strike  and  crush  the  unfortunate  officer,  and  with 
out  more  ado  swung  himself  down  into  the  water. 
The  captain  dove  under  the  boat  several  times. 
He  remained  for  so  long  a  time  under  water  that 
those  above  began  to  fear  that  they  had  lost  both 
of  their  officers,  when  he  finally  reappeared  with 
the  major's  body  in  his  arms.  Ropes  were  lowered, 
and  the  rescuer  and  rescued  were  quickly  drawn 
to  the  river  bank,  where  Captain  Clayborne  sank 
down  utterly  exhausted. 

"  It  seems  that  Major  Rand  had  been  stunned 
by  his  sudden  fall  and  had  drifted  into  the  paddle- 
wheel.  But  for  the  quick  decision  and  heroic 
action  of  his  subordinate  officer  he  would  never 
again  have  been  seen  alive.  Both  he  and  the 
captain  were  finally  resuscitated  and  taken  back 
to  camp,  where  the  former  was  soon  as  well  as 
ever.  The  captain,  however,  whose  constitution 
had  been  somewhat  weakened  by  a  recent  wound, 
is  now  lying  in  a  hospital  suffering  with  a  cold 
and  fever  brought  on  by  his  tremendous  exer 
tion  and  his  long  exposure  in  the  water.  If  he 
recovers  it  is  thought  that  Congress  will  reward 
such  bravery  by  promotion  or  by  the  presentation 
of  an  appropriate  medal." 


A  FEW  OLD  LETTERS  119 

This  is  what  I  read,  Captain  Clayborne,  a  short 
graphic  account  of  your  "  accident."  The  writer 
does  not  use  any  superfluous  words  in  recounting 
it.  He  merely  relates  the  facts  as  they  were,  in 
terse,  journalistic  style  ;  but  those  of  us  who  can 
read  between  the  lines  can  see  the  dark  abyss,  with 
its  cold,  seething  water;  can  hear  the  shouts  of 
excitement ;  can  feel  the  fear  and  the  despair  at 
the  thought  that  a  fellow  creature's  life  is  in 
jeopardy.  Then  we  can  see  the  man  of  calm 
courage  throw  himself  down  into  the  black  chasm 
to  risk  his  life  for  another.  Our  hearts  stand  still 
at  his  daring,  then  throb  with  apprehension,  for  he 
also  seems  to  be  lost  in  the  flood.  We  count  the 
seconds ;  they  seem  to  lengthen  into  an  eternity 
of  suspense  until  finally  he  does  return  to  us  bear 
ing  the  form  of  the  man  he  has  saved.  I  am 
proud  of  you,  Captain  Gordon  Clayborne,  and  I 
am  proud  of  your  friendship  and  of  your  regard. 

Believe  me  always  your  sincere  friend, 

MAEJORIE  WAKE. 

P.  S.  Yes,  "  Dolly"  is  as  dear  a  little  creature 
as  ever.  I  am  sure  she  does  not  forget  the  many 
pleasant  rides  we  had  last  summer,  nor  the  kind 
friend  who  fed  her  lumps  of  sugar. 

ARMY  OF  THE  TENNESSEE,  October  — ,  1862. 
MY  DEAR  Miss  WARE,  —  I  cannot  tell  you  on 
such  poor  paper  how  great  a  pleasure  your  letter 
gave  me. 


120  THE  CLAYBORNES 

Although  you  greatly  exaggerated  my  adventure, 
it  makes  me  glad  that  your  warm,  generous  nature 
does  exaggerate  the  act  of  one  who  thinks  much 
more  of  your  approbation  than  of  any  applause 
which  he  may  have  received  from  others.  No,  I 
am  not  the  proud  possessor  of  a  gold  medal  from 
Congress.  Neither  have  I  as  yet  been  promoted. 
The  writer  of  the  newspaper  article  was  a  Mr. 
Benjamin  Chesterfield,  a  personal  friend  of  mine, 
who  in  the  warmth  of  his  heart  and  the  enthusiasm 
»of  his  friendship  magnified  my  performance  of 
duty  into  a  deed  of  heroism,  but  I  am  none  the 
less  grateful  to  him  and  to  you.  If  ever  I  should 
win  any  of  those  laurels  which  it  would  be  affecta 
tion  for  a  soldier  to  belittle,  their  worth  will  be 
enhanced  by  the  thought  that  they  would  be 
valued  by  one  for  whom  I  have  such  high  regard, 
such  sincere  admiration,  as  I  have  for  you. 

How  long  the  time  seems  to  me  since  I  bade 
you  good-by  at  Memphis !  Since  I  cannot  see 
you,  pray  let  me  hear  from  you  frequently.  If  I 
could  only  tell  you  what  a  great  source  of  happi 
ness,  what  an  event  in  my  life,  is  the  receipt  of  one 
of  your  letters,  I  am  sure  you  would  send  them 
oftener  than  you  do.  I  think  I  must  have  written 
you  two  letters  for  each  one  received,  and  I  would 
write  more  but  for  fear  of  wearying  you.  I  regret 
that  I  have  not  been  gifted  with  that  eloquence  of 
pen  or  tongue  which  some  men  possess.  But  per 
haps  it  is  better  for  you  that  nature  has  denied  me 
these  gifts,  for  if  I  had  them  I  should  use  the  pen 


A  FEW  OLD  LETTERS  121 

in  writing  constantly  to  you,  and  my  eloquence 
would  serve  to  sing  your  praises.     I  am,  however, 
but  an  ordinary  mortal,  and  one  who,  if  he  cannot 
express  all  he  feels,  thinks  constantly  of  you. 
Your  devoted  friend, 

GORDON  CLAYBORNE. 

ARMY  OF  THE  TENNESSEE,  February  — ,  1863. 

MY  DEAR  Miss  WARE,  —  What  a  world  of 
pleasure  your  letters  this  winter  have  given  me. 
What  a  sustaining  force  is  the  sympathy  and  the 
encouragement  of  a  good  and  noble-minded  woman. 
I  think  you  have  received  all  my  letters,  although 
there  are  some  one  or  two  which  you  have  not  an 
swered  specifically.  The  winter  has  been  tedious 
in  the  extreme.  We  have  camped  and  lived  in 
rain  and  mud.  We  have  marched  from  one  place 
to  another.  We  have  made  feints  of  attacking 
the  enemy.  He  has  often  threatened  us,  and  there 
have  been  some  skirmishes,  but  no  real  engage 
ments.  Homesickness  and  disease  have  disheart 
ened  and  worn  upon  us,  but  with  such  cheerful 
and  inspiring  letters  as  yours  to  enliven  me  and 
to  support  my  courage  I  should  be  a  craven  if  I 
despaired. 

Now  we  are  really  to  move.  Yes,  the  reports  in 
the  papers  are  correct.  It  is  no  secret.  Vicks- 
burg  is  our  objective  point.  When  we  shall  get 
there  I  do  not  know,  but  I  am  one  of  those,  and 
the  army  is  full  of  them,  who  trust  in  the  leader, 
General  Grant.  He  has  said :  "  We  cannot  go 


122  THE  CLA.YBORNES 

backward  now.  There  is  only  one  thing  to  be 
done,  and  that  is  to  go  forward  to  decisive  vic 
tory  !  "  And  we  shall  go  forward.  He  has  started 
all  his  corps  commanders,  Sherman,  McClernand, 
and  McPherson,  on  the  move,  and  is  setting  every 
one  an  example  in  activity  himself.  He  does  not 
travel  with  a  large  equipment  of  personal  baggage. 
He  puts  his  old  brier  pipe,  a  pouch  of  tobacco,  and 
a  toothbrush  in  his  pocket  and  is  off  to  the  front. 
That 's  the  kind  of  a  general  he  is.  What  a  man 
he  is !  I  remember  once  after  a  hot  day's  battle 
he  happened  to  ride  out  near  our  regiment.  Every 
one  recognized  him  at  once  on  his  cream-colored 
horse  "Jack."  The  boys  all  surrounded  him,  cry 
ing  out  for  a  speech. 

The  general,  who  is  not  afraid  of  any  living 
thing,  actually  seemed  embarrassed. 

"  You  '11  have  to  make  them  a  speech,  General, 
to  get  rid  of  them,"  prompted  Rawlins.  General 
Grant  hesitated  a  moment  and  then  said :  — 

"  Soldiers,  I  thank  you.  That  is  all  I  can  say. 
You  've  done  a  good  day's  work  to-day,  but  you  will 
have  to  do  a  better  one  to-morrow." 

And  they  did  do  better  work  the  next  day. 

There  is  not  one  of  us  who  would  not  follow  him 
anywhere ;  so  you  may  be  sure  all  those  who  can 
keep  up  will  get  to  Vicksburg. 

I  do  not  know  when  I  shall  ever  see  you  again. 
The  end  of  the  war  seems  so  far  in  the  future  I 
dare  not  look  for  it.  But  no  matter  how  long  the 
years  are,  I  shall  never  forget  you.  I  think  of  you 


A  FEW  OLD  LETTERS  123 

at  all  times  as  the  little  girl  who  has  added  so 
much  to  my  life.  Softly  to  myself  I  call  you  "  my 
little  comrade."  You  will  let  me  continue  to  do 
this,  will  you  not  ?  When  the  war  is  over  I  shall 
find  you  again,  and  throughout  all  the  intervening 
years  I  shall  remain 

Your  true  and  devoted  friend, 

GORDON  CLAYBORNE. 

WASHINGTON,  D.  C.,  February  — ,  1863. 

MY  DEAR  MR.  CLAYBORNE, — I  am  glad  that  my 
letters  have  been  cheerful  and  have  been  a  help  to 
you  this  winter.  I  have  felt  so  helpless  myself. 
I  have  been  so  unhappy  at  the  thought  I  was  doing 
so  little  while  others  were  doing  so  much  more, 
that  your  assurance  that  any  poor  words  of  mine 
have  been  an  encouragement  and  a  sustaining 
force  to  one  who  has  been  enduring  the  privations 
and  incurring  the  dangers  of  war  is  balm  to  my 
troubled  spirit.  I  have  frequently  begged  my 
father  to  allow  me  to  volunteer  as  a  nurse  in  the 
field.  He  has  always  replied  that  he  could  not 
spare  me,  that  I  must  stay  and  look  out  for  him. 
Indeed,  the  poor  man  has  been  far  from  well,  and 
I  know  he  has  needed  me,  but  I  have  extracted  the 
promise  from  him  that  should  he  at  any  time  re 
turn  to  the  front,  he  will  allow  me  to  go  as  a  nurse 
and  do  my  part  of  the  work  as  befits  a  soldier's 
daughter.  He  has  now  recovered  much  of  his 
former  strength,  and  hopes  to  be  ordered  to  return 
to  the  field,  and  if  not  to  his  place  in  General 


124  THE  CLAYBORNES 

Sherman's  corps,  at  least  to  some  position  of  active 
service.  In  that  case  I  shall  exact  the  fulfillment 
of  our  agreement,  and  shall  come  to  the  front  to 
nurse  the  wounded.  You  can  hardly  know  how 
much  it  would  mean  to  me  to  feel  that  I  should  be 
doing  something  to  help  the  brave  men  who  have 
given  up  everything  for  their  country. 

Oh,  Mr.  Clayborne,  I  have  sometimes  felt  so 
very  despondent  here  in  Washington  this  winter. 
Perhaps  the  atmosphere  has  had  something  to  do 
with  it.  There  have  been  so  many  birds  of  evil 
omen  flying  about,  predicting  ruin  and  disaster, 
that  at  times  I  hardly  dared  lift  up  my  voice.  I 
felt  almost  wicked  to  be  so  faint-hearted,  but  at 
times  I  could  not  rise  above  it.  But  one  day  I 
had  a  lesson  which  I  shall  never  forget.  It  was  at 
a  reception  at  the  White  House,  not  one  of  the 
public  receptions,  but  an  evening  affair  at  which 
the  President  met  the  members  of  his  cabinet,  the 
army  officers  who  were  in  the  city  at  the  time,  and 
some  of  the  congressmen.  I  was  there  with  my 
father.  It  was  shortly  after  the  horrible  Fred- 
ericksburg  disaster,  and  we  were  talking  about  it 
sadly.  The  President  came  into  the  room,  and  al 
though  the  conversation  had  been  subdued  before, 
by  common  consent  it  now  seemed  to  cease,  and  a 
hush  fell  upon  the  assembly.  I  shall  never  forget 
the  expression  on  Mr.  Lincoln's  face  as  he  walked 
across  the  room  to  where  a  group  of  senators  and 
generals  were  standing.  I  stood  very  near  him, 
and  I  could  not  help  looking  steadily  at  him.  I 


A  FEW  OLD   LETTERS  125 

had  never  dreamed  that  such  sadness  could  be  in 
any  human  eyes ;  and  withal  they  were  so  soft,  so 
gentle,  so  loving  that  the  tears  came  to  my  own 
eyes  from  very  sympathy.  Some  of  the  senators 
were  criticising  the  generals  in  the  field  — with  some 
justice  perhaps,  although  it  seemed  hardly  fair  to 
speak  so  severely  of  men  who  were  not  there  to 
defend  themselves.  Mr.  Lincoln  listened  patiently, 
now  and  then  putting  in  a  word  which  I  could  not 
catch.  Finally  one  senator  —  he  was  from  one  of 
the  large  Western  States  —  spoke  of  Grant.  He 
spoke  in  such  an  outrageous  manner,  it  made  my 
blood  boil  to  hear  him.  He  said  that  General 
Grant  was  utterly  reckless  of  human  life,  that  he 
was  bloodthirsty,  and  did  not  care  how  many  men 
were  killed.  He  cried  out  in  a  loud  voice,  "  The 
man  drinks ;  he  is  unfit  to  command  troops !  "  and 
ended  with  these  words :  "  Now,  Mr.  President, 
there  is  a  large  number  in  Congress  clamoring  for 
Grant's  removal.  Will  you  not  assure  us  that  he 
will  be  removed  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  was  the  firm  answer. 

"  Then,  Mr.  President,  I  think  it  is  due  to  Con 
gress  and  the  American  people  to  be  told  why  you 
refuse  to  remove  this  man." 

"  You  can  tell  all  those  members  of  Congress, 
Mr.  Senator,"  replied  Mr.  Lincoln  in  a  quiet  but 
so  clear  a  tone  as  to  be  heard  all  over  the  room, 
"  that  the  reason  I  will  not  remove  General  Grant 
is  because  I  rather  like  the  man." 

The  senator  turned  scarlet  and  left  the  room  in 


126  THE   CLAYBORNES 

a  rage.  A  few  moments  later  the  President  was 
chatting  and  talking  with  another  group  of  men 
and  evidently  telling  some  amusing  story,  but  his 
eyes  never  lost  their  look  of  unutterable  sadness 
and  deep,  loving  sympathy.  • 

When  I  went  to  bed  that  night  I  said  to  myself, 
*'  If  the  President,  who  has  such  overpowering  bur 
dens  upon  his  shoulders,  can  bear  up  under  them 
and  not  lose  hope  and  faith  and  courage,  surely 
I  am  a  little  coward  to  give  way  to  doubt  and 
despair.  I  will  do  so  no  more." 

I  have  felt  better  since  that  night.  With  the 
new  year  came  the  Emancipation  Proclamation.  I 
think  that  was  the  greatest  document  the  world 
has  ever  seen.  And  now  I  have  got  a  position 
as  hospital  nurse  here  in  Washington,  I  shall  do 
what  I  can,  and  I  shan't  despair  any  more,  and  I 
know  we  shall  win.  Perhaps  later,  if  I  come  to 
the  front  I  shall  see  you,  Mr.  Clayborne,  and  you 
can  really  call  me  a  "  comrade,"  as  you  did  in  one 
of  your  letters. 

Always  your  sincere  friend, 

MAEJOEIE  WARE. 


CHAPTER  X 

BENJAMIN    CHESTERFIELD,    NON-COMBATANT 

BENJAMIN  CHESTERFIELD,  the  correspondent  of 
a  St.  Louis  newspaper,  had  been  with  the  Army 
of  the  West  since  the  first  clash  of  arms  in  Mis 
souri.  The  reports  he  had  sent  to  his  paper  had 
been  accurate  and  graphic ;  they  were  the  result 
of  his  own  personal  observations  at  the  front.  Be 
fore  the  trenches  at  Donelson,  when  a  battalion 
which  had  lost  its  leader  was  wavering  in  the  fight, 
Chesterfield  looked  up  coolly  from  his  note-book,  and 
seeing  its  plight,  waved  his  lead  pencil  in  the  air, 
and  with  a  "  Come  on,  boys,  this  is  the  way  out," 
rallied  them  to  the  charge. 

At  Shiloh,  seated  on  a  log  in  the  woods,  he  had 
seen  two  Yankee  regiments  chased  from  the  field, 
and  a  brigade  of  the  enemy  dart  by  him  in  full 
pursuit.  Chesterfield  arose  from  his  seat,  stretched 
his  long  legs,  squared  his  big  shoulders,  put  his 
note-book  quietly  into  his  pocket,  and  followed 
slowly  after  them. 

Imbued  with  an  ardent  love  of  action  and  a 
thirst  for  adventure,  Chesterfield  seemed  to  possess 
the  happy  knack  of  being  everywhere  and  seeing 
everything  ;  and  although  this  omnipresent  gentle- 


128  THE   CLAYBORNES 

man  sometimes  came  into  possession  of  important 
military  secrets,  such  were  his  good  judgment  and 
patriotism  that  he  could  be  relied  upon  not  to 
divulge  information  that  would  be  of  value  to  the 
enemy,  or  hamper  the  plans  of  the  generals  in 
command. 

In  the  early  spring  of  '63  Grant  still  had  the 
Vicksburg  problem  to  solve. 

As  to  what  that  problem  was  the  country  at 
large  knew  very  little.  As  to  how  it  should  be 
solved  everybody  seemed  to  know  a  great  deal ;  as 
to  how  Grant  intended  to  solve  it  nobody  knew  at 
all.  Therefore  everybody  clamored  for  the  imme 
diate  solution. 

While  digging,  dredging,  and  engineering  was 
going  on  in  the  river  above  Vicksburg,  the  restless 
Chesterfield,  thinking  that  it  would  take  some  time 
for  the  bottom  of  the  Mississippi  to  be  scooped  up, 
took  the  boat  one  day  and  started  off  up  the  river 
to  Memphis.  Chesterfield  was  one  of  the  few,  be 
side  the  President  of  the  United  States,  who 
thought  that  General  Grant  knew  what  he  was 
about,  and  was  satisfied  to  await  the  developments 
which  time  would  bring  forth.  But  he  was  not 
satisfied  to  wait  in  idleness.  He  had  to  be  doing 
something,  so  he  started  off  on  an  exploit  of  his 
own.  What  his  particular  plan  was  is  unimpor 
tant,  because  it  never  matured.  He  got  off  the 
steamer  at  Memphis,  leaving  it  to  continue  on  its 
way  to  St.  Louis,  while  he  put  up  for  the  night 
at  a  hotel. 


BENJAMIN  CHESTERFIELD  129 

In  the  early  gray  of  the  next  morning,  while  low, 
threatening  clouds  hung  along  the  horizon,  big 
Ben  Chesterfield,  on  a  villainous-looking  but  sturdy 
little  horse,  rode  out  of  the  town  alone. 

The  Mississippi  River  was  open  all  the  way  up 
from  Vieksburg  to  St.  Louis,  and  the  adjoining 
country  was  under  control  of  the  United  States ; 
but  it  was  infested  with  guerrillas  who  were  not 
always  over-scrupulous  in  their  treatment  of  non- 
combatants.  However,  Ben  Chesterfield  had  a 
disregard  for  danger  in  proportion  to  his  size,  and 
this  is  saying  a  good  deal,  for  he  stood  six  feet  two 
in  his  stockings  ;  and  the  small,  ragged-looking 
steed  he  now  bestrode  could  have  verified  that  he 
sat  in  the  saddle  at  full  two  hundred  pounds. 

Whither  the  enterprising  Mr.  Chesterfield  was 
bound  on  this  April  morning  is  a  matter  of  small 
concern,  because  he  never  reached  the  intended 
goal. 

It  was  getting  towards  the  noon  hour,  and  Ches 
terfield,  jogging  along  carelessly,  with  the  bridle 
on  the  horse's  neck,  did  not  see  a  small  wire  which 
had  been  strung  with  fell  intent  across  the  road. 
The  unmindful  rider  was  just  reaching  for  a  pack 
age  of  sandwiches  in  his  saddle-bag  when  the 
horse  stumbled  violently,  and  fell  to  his  knees, 
throwing  the  war  correspondent  forward  to  the 
ground.  Chesterfield  lay  quite  still  with  his  head 
in  the  mud.  He  had  a  vague  consciousness  of 
some  one  feeling  in  his  pockets,  and  of  fragments 
of  a  conversation  going  on  about  him.  Gradually 


130  THE  CLAYBORNES 

he  succeeded  in  collecting  his  scattered  senses,  and 
heard  the  words  :  — 

"  I  '11  bet  a  jew's-harp  he 's  broke  his  neck." 

"  No,  he  ain't ;  he  's  only  stunned." 

This  reassuring  reply  seemed  to  revive  the  fallen 
man  somewhat,  and  opening  one  eye  cautiously  he 
allowed  it  to  travel  slowly  up  the  leg  of  a  pair  of 
blue  overalls,  across  a  butternut  shirt,  until  it  rested 
upon  a  tow  head  crowned  by  a  ragged  straw  hat. 

"  Doggone  it,  if  here  ain't  a  bottle  of  rot-skull," 
cried  a  joyful  voice.  Peeping  through  his  eyelids, 
Chesterfield  saw  another  and  similar  figure  bend 
ing  over  him,  holding  an  old-fashioned  musket  in 
one  hand,  while  with  the  other  he  searched  his 
pockets. 

"  Here,  you,  let  me  have  that !  "  cried  one. 

"  No,  I  got  it  first." 

"  But  I  diskivered  him." 

Big  Chesterfield  rose  suddenly  to  his  feet  and 
made  a  clutch  at  the  two  grotesque  spectres.  He 
was  giddy  from  his  fall ;  they  both  dodged  out  of 
his  reach,  and  with  a  yell  sprang  away  like  deer, 
and  were  off  fifty  yards  up  the  road  before  they 
turned  and  looked  back  at  him,  panting. 

"  Hi,  Jotham,  you  've  dropped  the  whiskey 
bottle  ;  go  back  and  get  it." 

"  I  '11  do  no  such  thing.  You  go  yourself.  You 
diskivered  him." 

"  I  '11  be  '  dad-rotted '  if  I  go ;  he  's  too  big  for 
me  to  tackle." 

Chesterfield  picked  up  the  musket  and  began  to 
examine  it. 


BENJAMIN  CHESTERFIELD  131 

"  Hi,  look  out  thar,  he  's  going  to  shoot !  We  'd 
better  tuck  our  tails  an'  git."  Suiting  the  action 
to  the  words  they  were  off  up  the  road,  running  like 
two  scared  dogs,  and  driving  Chesterfield's  horse 
before  them.  The  correspondent  fired  the  charge 
of  buckshot  in  their  direction,  which  only  served  to 
accelerate  their  pace,  and  they  were  soon  lost  to 
sight. 

Left  to  his  own  meditation,  the  correspondent 
picked  up  the  whiskey  flask  from  the  road,  brushed 
the  dirt  from  it,  and  replaced  it  in  his  pocket.  The 
slender  wire,  stretched  across  the  road  a  few  inches 
from  the  ground,  and  fastened  to  a  sapling  on  each 
side  of  the  way,  caught  his  eye.  "  That  comes 
pretty  near  making  me  mad,"  he  said,  tearing  it 
up  with  a  vigorous  tug.  Then  he  sat  down  on  a 
stone  by  the  wayside,  and  taking  out  his  pocket- 
knife  began  calmly  to  scrape  off  some  of  the  mud 
with  which  he  was  plastered.  He  had  been  en 
gaged  in  this  pastime  for  about  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  when  he  raised  his  head  to  listen  intently. 
His  quick  ear  had  caught  the  sound  of  galloping 
hoofs  and  the  snort  of  a  horse.  Closing  his  knife, 
he  put  it  away  and  drew  the  musket  to  his  side. 
A  horseman  riding  suddenly  around  a  bend  in  the 
road  saw  a  figure  loom,  up  before  him.  With  a 
frightened  snort  his  horse  threw  himself  back  on 
his  haunches,  with  Chesterfield's  big  form  block 
ing  the  way. 

"  Tell  me  quickly  without  stopping  to  think 
which  side  you  are  for,  the  Union  or  Confederate  ?  " 


132  THE  CLAYBORNES 

and  Chesterfield  thrust  the  musket  in  the  man's 
face. 

The  rider  looked  along  the  rusty  barrel  to  the 
besplashed  figure  at  the  other  end. 

"  Speak  quick." 

"  I  'in  a  loyal  supporter  of  the  Confederate 
cause." 

"  You  're  just  the  man  I  've  been  waiting  for. 
Get  down  off  that  horse." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  was  the  stammering 
rejoinder. 

"  I  mean  I  'm  delighted  to  meet  the  Southern 
Confederacy  on  such  a  fine  horse.  I  '11  take  the 
horse  and  you  can  go." 

"  Fellow,  I  'm  bound  on  important  business  down 
the  river.  Let  me  pass  !  " 

"I  am  bound  on  important  business  myself," 
replied  Chesterfield,  "  and  I  need  a  horse,  a  nice 
horse  with  a  glossy  mane  and  long  tail.  That  one 
you  're  on  just  answers  the  description,  so  I  '11 
trouble  you  to  get  off  and  let  me  mount."  Ches 
terfield  tossed  the  old  musket  to  one  side  and  drew 
a  Colt's  revolver.  The  rider  urged  his  steed  for 
ward,  aiming  a  blow  at  Chesterfield's  head  with  the 
butt  of  his  whip.  With  one  hand  on  the  bridle 
the  correspondent  stayed  the  animal's  progress 
while  he  caught  the  whip  from  the  man's  hand 
and  threw  it  into  a  ditch.  "  Come  now,  let  me 
coax  you  from  your  seat,"  he  said  quietly,  leveling 
his  weapon. 

The  rider  was  a  slender,  boyish  fellow  with  a 


BENJAMIN   CHESTERFIELD  133 

smooth  face  and  a  bright  eye  ;  he  was  also  a  dis 
creet  young  man.  He  knew  he  was  no  match  for 
his  large  opponent,  and  slid  from  his  seat  with  the 
best  grace  he  could  command.  "  What  are  you 
going  to  do  now  ?  "  he  asked  doggedly,  his  right 
hand  creeping  towards  his  belt. 

"Hands  above  your  head,"  was  Chesterfield's 
word  of  command. 

Cursing  his  own  stupidity  at  being  taken  una 
wares,  the  young  man  obeyed.  "  You  're  the  first 
man  who  ever  caught  me  like  this,"  he  growled,  as 
Chesterfield  relieved  him  of  his  weapons. 

Whistling  blithely  the  cheerful  correspondent 
transferred  a  pair  of  pistols  to  his  own  belt. 

"  I  guess  that 's  all,"  Chesterfield  said,  stepping 
back  a  pace  and  still  holding  the  horse  by  the 
bridle.  "  You  can  have  that  old  musket  there  by 
the  roadside  ;  it 's  not  loaded,"  he  continued. 

"  Look  a-here,"  exclaimed  the  other ;  "  I  don't 
know  who  you  are  or  what  your  game  is.  I  'm 
willing  to  admit  that  I  belong  to  the  Southern 
Confederacy  " — 

"  You  have  admitted  it,"  was  the  rejoinder. 

"  Well,  I  'm  willing  to  stand  by  it ;  but  I  'd 
have  you  know  that  horse  is  my  personal  property. 
It  don't  belong  to  the  Southern  Confederacy.  I 
appeal  to  you  as  a  gentleman  not  to  rob  me  of  it." 

"  I  had  a  horse,  my  own  personal  property.  I 
bought  him  yesterday.  He  wasn't  much  to  look 
at,  but  I  was  getting  attached  to  him.  Half  an 
hour  ago  he  was  confiscated  by  some  of  'your 


134  THE  CLAYBORNES 

people.'  I  '11  give  you  a  cartel  of  exchange. 
When  you  bring  '  Rags '  to  me  I  '11  return  your 
horse.  Let  us  effect  the  exchange,  say  at  Vicks- 
burg  in  ninety  days  from  date." 

"  I  spoke  to  you  as  to  a  gentleman,"  replied  the 
other  man  haughtily.  "  If  you  wish  I  '11  buy  my 
property  from  you." 

"  My  dear  young  rebel,  I  'm  fond  of  games,  but 
I  don't  trade  in  horses  to  make  money.  In  this 
deal  I  come  out  ahead,  but  I  solemnly  promise  to 
return  your  horse  to  you  upon  receipt  of  my  own. 
Until  then  I  shall  keep  yours." 

"  But  I  did  not  take  your  horse,"  answered  the 
Confederate  desperately. 

"  My  dear  little  reb,  you  know  that  in  this 
game  we  never  shoot  the  man  who  shot  us,  but 
some  other  fellow.  We  're  sorry  for  the  other  fel 
low,  but  we  let  him  have  it  just  the  same." 

"  I  '11  give  you  two  hundred  dollars  —  not  Con 
federate  bills,  but  Federal  money." 

Chesterfield  mounted  the  horse. 

"  Three  hundred  dollars  "  — 

"  That 's  too  much." 

"  I  don't  care.  I  want  the  horse.  Name  your 
own  price." 

"  There  must  be  some  extra  fine  points  about 
this  animal  which  I  don't  see.  I  guess  I  '11  keep 
him  until  I  discover  what  they  are,"  and  Chester 
field  rode  jauntily  away,  leaving  the  young  man 
fuming  in  the  middle  of  the  road. 

Chesterfield  rode  rapidly.     The  day  was  fickle, 


BENJAMIN  CHESTERFIELD  135 

with  sharp  showers  followed  by  genial  sunshine 
which  would  last  only  for  a  few  minutes,  when  the 
streaked  sky  would  again  become  overcast  and 
large  drops  of  rain  would  patter  on  the  young 
green  of  the  woods. 

The  correspondent's  disposition  was  proof 
against  all  conditions  of  weather.  He  went  blithely 
forward  along  a  bad  road,  through  a  hostile 
country,  with  never  a  thought  as  to  danger  or  dis 
comfort.  Towards  the  latter  part  of  the  afternoon 
he  recollected  he  had  not  dined.  His  dinner  was 
in  the  saddle-pouch  on  "  Rag's  "  back.  There  were 
no  saddle-bags  on  the  horse  which  he  now  bestrode, 
but  a  holster  for  a  pistol  hung  at  the  saddle-bow. 
Chesterfield  opened  it  and  instead  of  finding  a 
revolver  drew  forth  a  plug  of  tobacco.  "  My  Con 
federate  friend  was  traveling  with  light  equip 
ment  and  only  burdened  himself  with  the  necessi 
ties  of  life,"  thought  the  correspondent  as  he 
dropped  the  plug  back  into  its  place.  "  Well,  I 
can  go  without  eating  until  " — 

"  Throw  up  your  hands,  young  fellow,"  said  a 
quiet  voice  so  near  that  it  made  him  start. 

Chesterfield  had  ridden  into  an  ambush.  On 
each  side  of  the  road  in  front  of  him  stood  a  man 
with  a  rifle  leveled  at  his  head.  The  newspaper 
correspondent  felt  himself  at  a  decided  disadvan 
tage.  In  the  words  of  the  gentleman  from  whom 
he  had  so  recently  parted,  he  cursed  himself  for 
being  caught  in  such  an  awkward  predicament, 
but  he  threw  up  his  hands  with  seeming  alacrity. 


136  THE  CLAYBORNES 

A  short  pause  ensued.  The  two  men  holding 
the  game  in  their  hands  were  in  no  hurry  to  force 
matters  to  a  conclusion,  but  took  their  time  to 
survey  the  man  whom  they  held  up.  Chesterfield 
returned  their  stare  with  cool  composure  while 
he  studied  them  minutely.  They  were  muscular 
specimens  of  young  manhood  with  bold  and  hardy 
features.  Their  belts  were  heavy  with  knives  and 
pistols,  while  their  shining  rifle  barrels  reflected 
the  care  they  bestowed  upon  their  weapons.  Their 
whole  demeanor  showed  that  they  knew  how  to  use 
these  weapons,  and  Ben  Chesterfield  knew  that  if  he 
yielded  to  the  impulse  to  ride  off  with  a  sudden 
dash,  it  would  be  but  a  short  ride  and  his  last  one. 

"  Young  feller,"  said  the  walking  arsenal  on  his 
left  hand,  "  I  would  like  to  ask  you  a  few  ques 
tions."  His  interlocutor  was  ten  years  his  junior 
in  point  of  age,  but  he  fingered  the  trigger  of  his 
gun  so  delicately  that  Chesterfield  had  no  wish  to 
argue  that  matter. 

"  Spout  ahead,  old  man,"  he  replied  cheerfully. 
"  Put  me  through  my  catechism." 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  " 

"  Benjamin  Chesterfield." 

"  Where  hev  yer  come  from,  Mr.  Chesterfield  ?  " 

"  From  down  the  river." 

"  Where  are  yer  bound  for  ?  " 

"  I  'm  going  up  yonder  as  far  as  Collier's." 

"  Where  did  you  git  that  hoss  ?  " 

"  This  horse  ?     Why,  he 's  my  horse." 

"  How  long  has  he  been  yer  hoss  ?  " 


BENJAMIN  CHESTERFIELD  137 

"  Oh,  about  two  hours.  I  got  him  in  a  trade 
down  yonder." 

"  Which  side  are  you  on  ?  "  was  the  next  ques 
tion  in  a  peremptory  tone. 

"  Oh,  why  not  put  me  down  a  neutral  ?  " 

"  We  don't  have  no  such  chaps  around  here, 
young  feller."  Then  speaking  sternly  :  "  You  say 
you  come  from  down  the  river.  Any  one  might 
do  that.  Yer  goin'  up  yonder.  Any  one  might 
be  doin'  that.  But  you  're  ridin'  a  hoss  I  know. 
It  belongs  to  a  partner  of  mine.  The  feller  that 
took  him  got  away  with  him  on  a  dark  night,  and 
there  ain't  a  hoss  in  the  State  as  can  catch  up 
to  him.  It'll  be  mighty  unhealthy  for  the  man 
who  stole  'Starlight'  if  we  lay  hold  of  him,  so 
you  'd  better  speak  pert." 

Chesterfield  felt  that  much  depended  upon  his 
next  answer.  There  was  no  trifling  written  in  the 
young  fellow's  eye;  he  meant  every  word  he  ut 
tered,  while  the  man  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
road  had  for  some  minutes  past  been  handling 
his  rifle  with  a  manifest  impatience  which  dis 
turbed  even  the  steady  nerves  of  the  war  corre 
spondent.  "  Gentlemen,"  he  said  with  sudden 
frankness,  "  I  don't  know  who  you  are.  You  may 
be  Confederate  soldiers.  You  may  be  Union 
scouts.  You  may  be  home  guards ;  but  I  'm  the 
correspondent  for  a  Northern  newspaper.  I  am 
classed  under  the  head  of  non-combatants,  but  I 
can  put  up  a  pretty  fair  fight  when  the  odds  are 
right." 


138  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"That's  all  right,  young  feller,  as  far  as  it 
goes,"  and  the  rifle  was  lowered  a  little,  "but  it 
don't  explain  about  the  hoss." 

"  If  you  '11  only  ask  your  comrade  to  stop  finger 
ing  that  rifle  of  his  so  lovingly,  I  '11  explain  about 
the  horse.  Thank  you.  As  I  said  before,  I  got 
this  horse  in  a  trade.  Some  bushrangers  relieved 
me  of  my  own  property,  and  when  this  handsome 
animal  came  cantering  down  the  road  I  took  him 
to  make  the  trade  even." 

"  Was  n't  there  anybody  on  his  back  ?  " 

"  There  was,  a  young  Confederate ;  but  as  I  did 
not  have  any  need  of  him  I  sent  him  off  to  look  for 
my  nag." 

"  If  what  yer  say  is  true,  you  're  all  right.  We 
won't  bother  with  any  war  correspondents ;  but 
you  '11  hev  to  prove  it 's  true  first,  so  yer  jest 
come  along  with  us  and  see  the  old  man.  He  '11 
hev  a  talk  with  you,  and  if  you  're  the  feller  that 
stole  that  hoss  from  him,  all  I  can  say  is,  you  're 
the  unluckiest  hoss  thief  I  ever  seen.  It  would 
have  been  better  for  yer  to  have  stolen  every  other 
hoss  in  the  State  of  Tennessee  than  this." 

"  I  '11  go  and  see  the  '  old  man '  with  the  greatest 
of  pleasure,"  was  the  cordial  reply. 

"  You  '11  go  anyway.  Just  slide  off  the  hoss. 
We  '11  take  charge  of  him.  Bill,  you  take  Dad's 
hoss  and  lead  the  way.  This  here  war  corre 
spondent  '11  come  right  along  after  you  and  I  '11  be 
rear  guard.  Forward  march  !  " 

Through  the  bushes  and  into  the  woods  they 


BENJAMIN  CHESTERFIELD  139 

plunged.  Chesterfield  could  not  see  the  sign  of  a 
path ;  yet  his  captors  never  hesitated,  but  pushed 
on  at  a  rapid  gait  in  silence. 

"  I  trust  that  I  '11  have  no  difficulty  in  convincing 
the  'old  man'  as  to  my  spotless  character,"  he 
mused,  "  for  it  might  be  unpleasant  if  he  insisted 
upon  identifying  me  as  the  man  who  stole  '  Star 
light  '  on  that  dark  night." 

The  young  man  in  front  stopped  and  held  up 
his  hand,  then  broke  the  stillness  of  the  woods  by 
giving  the  shrill  cry  of  the  catbird.  They  waited 
in  silence  for  a  minute.  Then  came  a  series  of  calls 
with  a  few  moments'  interval  between  them,  the 
first  so  near  at  hand  that  it  seemed  to  come  from 
a  thicket  at  Chesterfield's  side ;  the  others  faintly 
from  the  distance.  "Advance,  friend,"  cried  a 
voice  just  ahead  of  them,  and  Chesterfield's  con 
ductors  gave  him  the  word.  They  went  forward, 
passing  a  man  leaning  against  a  tree.  His  attitude 
was  careless,  and  his  clothes  were  rusty,  but  the 
barrel  of  his  rifle  was  as  bright  as  his  eye.  He 
had  heard  them  coming  long  before  the  signal,  and 
from  his  position  behind  the  tree  had  "a  bead" 
upon  them  all  the  time. 

"  Hello  there,"  cried  the  sentinel.  "  Durned  if 
you  ain't  got  Dad's  horse.  He  '11  be  mighty  glad  to 
see  it  again.  And  what  else  have  you  got  there  ?  " 

"  Young  feller  says  he  's  a  war  correspondent, 
but  we  caught  him  riding  the  old  man's  horse,  and 
I  reckon  the  burden  '11  be  on  him  to  prove  he  's 
all  right." 


140  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  Well,  Dad 's  pretty  riled,  that 's  all  I  can  say." 

Five  minutes  later  they  came  to  a  small  clearing 
in  the  woods.  The  smoke  from  a  camp-fire  curled 
lazily  through  the  trees,  and  the  fragrant  odor  of 
fried  pork  assailed  Chesterfield's  nostrils  plea 
santly. 

His  captors  stopped  him  while  they  repeated  the 
catbird's  cry.  At  the  command  "  Advance  !  "  they 
joined  a  circle  of  a  dozen  stalwart  young  fellows, 
lying  about  the  fire  eating,  and  talking  in  low  tones. 
At  the  side  of  each  man  lay  the  inevitable  rifle. 

"  Well,  Dad,  we  've  brought  your  hoss  home 
again,"  said  one  of  the  newcomers  quietly. 

"  Good  for  you,  Hen,"  was  the  rejoinder,  as  Dad 
sprang  to  his  feet  with  the  agility  of  a  boy ;  "and 
what  the  dickens  are  you  doing  with  this  man  ? " 
he  exclaimed,  hitting  Chesterfield  a  backhander 
on  the  chest.  The  last  time  I  saw  him  was  in 
Kansas." 

"Williamson,"  said  the  latter,  "your  friends 
were  not  sure  whether  to  shoot  me  for  a  rebel 
guerrilla  or  hang  me  as  a  horse  thief,  so  they  de 
cided  to  let  you  pass  sentence  upon  me." 

"  Dad  "  Williamson  laughed  deeply.  "  Boys," 
he  cried,  "  this  gentleman  is  Ben  Chesterfield  from 
St.  Louis.  He 's  a  friend  of  mine.  Chesterfield, 
these  are  my  boys,"  and  the  Union  scout  waved 
his  hand  around  the  circle.  "  These  are  my  young 
sters.  They  are  a  worthless  lot,"  he  continued, 
looking  about  him  affectionately,  "  They  can't  do 
very  much  except  fight  and  get  killed ;  but  they 


BENJAMIN  CHESTERFIELD  141 

can  shoot  straight,  Chesterfield,  and  they  're  true 
blue,  and  you  can  just  tie  to  any  one  of  them." 

The  "youngsters,"  bearded  men  all  of  them, 
stretched  their  sturdy  limbs  before  the  fire  in  ap 
preciation  of  their  chief's  compliment. 

Five  years  before,  Chesterfield  had  passed  a 
winter  evening  with  Williamson  before  a  blazing 
camp-fire.  The  two  men  had  taken  to  each  other 
at  that  time ;  and  although  the  intervening  years 
had  never  brought  them  together,  they  now  sat 
down  side  by  side  on  a  log,  to  share  a  piece  of 
brown  fat  pork  like  two  old  friends. 

Daniel  Williamson,  "  Dad,"  or  the  "  old  man,"  as 
he  was  called  by  those  who  knew  him,  was  about 
thirty-five,  with  a  beard  as  black  as  a  raven's  wing. 
Chesterfield  rarely  met  a  man  larger  than  himself, 
but  "  Dad  "  Williamson,  broader  of  shoulder  and 
deeper  of  chest,  could  look  over  the  big  correspond 
ent's  head. 

Living  over  the  border  in  Kentucky,  William 
son  had  been  one  of  those  who  had  fought  for  the 
"  Union  "  even  before  the  war.  They  had  saved 
their  State  from  the  South ;  yet  when  the  war  broke 
out  the  country  where  Williamson  lived  was  as 
much  divided  in  sentiment  as  it  was  before.  "  Dad  " 
took  his  rifle  from  the  wall,  called  a  number  of  his 
own  ilk  about  him,  and  together  they  carried  on 
a  warfare  of  their  own.  All  through  Kentucky 
and  Tennessee  they  hunted  and  were  hunted,  turn 
and  turn  about,  now  chasing  a  band  of  rebel 
guerrillas  through  the  woods,  now  piloting  Federal 


142  THE  CLAYBORNES 

prisoners  over  the  mountains,  now  fleeing  from 
Morgan  and  his  raiders.  Pitted  against  men  as 
reckless  and  fearless  as  themselves,  they  fought  the 
war  out  in  their  own  sweet  way.  Armed  to  the 
teeth,  they  never  laid  their  weapons  aside  during 
day  or  night.  Like  the  border  riders  of  old,  who 
"  carved  at  the  meal  with  gloves  of  steel  and 
drank  the  red  wine  through  the  helmet  barred," 
Williamson  and  his  band  slept  in  their  boots  with 
their  rifles  by  their  sides,  and  cut  up  their  fried 
pork  with  their  bowie-knives. 

"  This  is  the  way  we  live,  Chesterfield.  Don't 
you  want  to  join  us  ?  There  ain't  as  much  glory 
in  it  as  writing  glowing  accounts  of  victories  for 
the  newspapers,  but  there  's  lots  more  fun,"  and 
"  Dad  "  Williamson  laughed  gleefully.  His  name 
was  notorious  in  Richmond  as  a  bushwhacker  and 
Federal  scout,  and  there  was  a  price  set  upon  his 
head.  This  fact  added  to  the  fun. 

"  Certainly  I  '11  join  you,"  replied  the  corre 
spondent,  taking  a  large  piece  of  pork  on  the  end 
of  a  pointed  stick.  "  I  appreciate  the  fun  much 
better  now  than  I  did  earlier  in  the  day  when  two 
of  your  '  youngsters  '  were  threatening  my  poor 
brains." 

"  They  took  you  for  the  rebel  who  stole  my 
horse.  Tell  me  where  you  came  across  the  ani 
mal." 

Chesterfield  gave  a  detailed  account  of  the  inci 
dent.  During  the  recital  "  Dad "  Williamson's 
bright  eyes  snapped  with  suppressed  excitement. 


BENJAMIN  CHESTERFIELD  143 

"  Why  in  thunder,  Chesterfield,"  he  cried,  as 
the  latter  finished,  "  did  n't  you  hold  the  rascal  ?  " 

"  You  forget,  I  did  not  know  whose  horse  it 
was,  and  I  am  a  non-combatant." 

"  Non-combatant  be  bio  wed,  Chesterfield  ;  in 
cases  of  emergency  you  should  never  let  that  stand 
in  your  way.  You  '11  miss  lots  of  fun  and  many 
an  opportunity  to  do  a  service  to  your  country." 

"  I  never  will  again,  Williamson,  but  I  thought 
I  was  rather  hard  on  the  fellow,  as  it  was,  taking 
such  a  fine  horse." 

"  Fine  horse,  I  should  say  it  was.  You  should 
have  seen  the  slick  way  in  which  that  rebel  got 
away  with  him.  I  was  a  gum-headed  sojer  to  let 
him  do  it.  It  riles  me  to  think  of  it,"  and  reach 
ing  down  into  his  trousers'  pocket  Dad  William 
son  took  out  a  small  end  of  a  tobacco  plug,  and 
solaced  himself  with  a  chew.  "  That 's  all  the 
tobacco  there  is  in  this  camp,"  he  said,  with  a  sigh, 
as  he  offered  half  of  it  to  Chesterfield.  "  What, 
you  don't  use  it  ? "  he  continued  wrapping  the 
precious  end  in  a  piece  of  paper  and  putting  it 
carefully  away.  "  I  feel  mighty  mean  hanging  on 
to  this  when  all  those  boys  have  their  hungry  eyes 
on  it,  but  it 's  too  small  to  be  divided  among  'em." 

"  That  reminds  me,"  exclaimed  Chesterfield. 
"  Where  's  the  saddle  of  your  horse  ?" 

"  Henry,  fetch  that  saddle  over  to  Mr.  Chester 
field." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Chesterfield,  feeling  in  the 
holsters.  "  Here  is  something  you  will  like,"  and 


144  THE  CLAYBORNES 

he  drew  forth  a  large  slab  of  Carolina  plug  neatly 
wrapped  up  in  tinfoil. 

"  What,"  exclaimed  Williamson,  "  you  give  this 
all  to  me?" 

"  Every  ounce  of  it." 

"  Boys,  see  what  my  friend  has  done  for  us. 
Chesterfield,  in  the  name  of  suffering  humanity,  I 
thank  you.  Now,  boys,  we  '11  divide  fair.  I  '11 
take  a  bite  first  and  pass  the  plug  around  in  the 
order  of  seniority,  —  Bill  next,  Hen  third." 

Tearing  away  the  tinfoil,  "  Dad  "  thrust  the  bar 
of  tobacco  into  his  capacious  mouth  and  took  a 
generous  bite.  His  firm  white  teeth  had  hardly 
begun  their  work  of  mastication  when  he  stopped, 
removed  the  quid  from  his  mouth,  and  going  up 
close  to  the  fire  examined  it  critically  by  the  flick 
ering  light.  His  companions,  who  had  crowded 
about  him  expectantly,  viewed  this  action  with  sur 
prise  and  some  signs  of  alarm. 

"  What 's  the  matter  ?  "  faltered  one  burly  fol 
lower  with  consternation  written  upon  his  face. 
"  There  ain't  nothing  wrong  with  the  tobacco,  is 
there,  Dad  ?  " 

"  The  tobacco 's  all  right,"  answered  Dad  Wil 
liamson  slowly. 

There  was  a  general  sigh  of  relief. 

"  But  there 's  the  all-firedest  queer  mixture  in 
with  it,"  and  he  carefully  unrolled  a  piece  of  thin 
tissue  paper  which  was  embedded  in  the  leaf  of  the 
plug.  Spreading  this  out  on  his  knee,  he  exam 
ined  it  intently  with  his  keen  eyes.  "  Hen,  hold  a 


BENJAMIN   CHESTERFIELD  145 

lighted  pine-knot  here,  lad.  I  think  there  's  some 
writin'  on  this.  Hold  it  a  little  nearer.  Don't 
set  fire  to  the  blamed  thing.  That 's  right."  Dad 
Williamson's  eyes  snapped  as  he  deciphered  the 
small  and  delicately  traced  characters.  He  rose 
up  from  the  fire  bristling  with  excitement  like  a 
hunting-dog  when  he  scents  the  quarry. 

"  Boys,"  he  said  quickly,  "  this  is  the  best  piece 
of  luck  yet.  I  'm  on  the  trace  of  the  fellow  that 
stole  my  hoss,  and  when  I  get  him  I  '11  get  some 
thing  a  darn  sight  better,"  and  he  chuckled  to 
himself. 

"  What 's  written  on  the  paper,  Dad  ?  "  inquired 
Bill. 

"  Wait  a  minute,  boys,  and  let  the  old  man 
think,"  replied  Williamson,  standing  before  the 
fire  with  his  brows  knitted  and  his  great  black 
beard  on  his  chest.  He  kept  perfectly  still  for 
thirty  seconds.  At  the  end  of  that  time  he  slapped 
his  thigh  with  decision. 

"  Bill  Brown,"  he  said,  "  I  '11  leave  you  to  look 
after  the  boys  for  the  next  few  days.  You  know 
what  to  do.  Join  Wood  at  Wilson's  Ford.  I  '11 
try  to  be  there  by  Thursday.  Take  all  the  boys 
with  you,  but  don't  let  any  more  of  'em  get  killed 
than  is  absolutely  necessary.  Morgan's  gang  is 
about  and  they  're  stronger  than  you  are,  so  you  'd 
better  keep  away  from  'em  ;  but  if  they  should  get 
up  to  you,  I  hope  you  '11  kill  a  few  of  them  before 
they  capture  you." 

"  I  reckon  we  '11  do  our  levelest,  Dad." 


t 

146  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  That 's  all  the  instructions  I  can  think  of  now," 
said  Williamson.  "  Henry,  saddle  '  Starlight '  and 
two  of  the  other  horses.  I  '11  take  you  and  Mr. 
Chesterfield  along  with  me.  Hey,  Chesterfield, 
what  do  you  say?  You  've  only  ridden  forty  miles 
to-day.  You  're  good  for  another  twenty,  I  know." 

Ben  Chesterfield,  never  backward  when  there 
was  any  adventure  on  foot,  acquiesced  with 
alacrity. 

"  That 's  splendid,"  exclaimed  Williamson,  who, 
gay  as  a  lark,  was  buckling  on  his  pistol  belt. 

"  What  arms  are  you  going  to  take  ? "  asked 
the  non-combatant  cheerfully. 

"  Oh,  put  a  couple  of  six-shooters  in  your  belt. 
Now  be  good  boys  till  I  see  you  again,"  Dad  called 
out,  as  he  swung  into  the  saddle.  "  Come  on, 
Benjamin,"  and  the  two  big  fellows  rode  off 
through  the  woods  toward  the  highway,  with  Henry 
at  their  heels. 

"  It 's  the  richest  of  luck,"  explained  Dad  Wil 
liamson  to  the  correspondent  as  they  cantered 
along  the  road.  "  That  letter  was  written  by  one 
of  Bragg's  scouts.  It  gives  valuable  information 
about  our  troops,  which  old  Bragg  would  give  his 
whiskers  to  receive,"  and  Dad  chuckled  again. 

"  But  where  are  we  going  ?  "  inquired  Chester 
field. 

"  The  best  of  it  is,"  Williamson  went  on  to  say, 
"  that  the  letter  ends  up  with :  '  I  shall  await  your 
reply  before  going  down  the  river.  Send  instruc 
tions  to  the  same  place>  and  if  I  am  away  I  will 


BENJAMIN  CHESTERFIELD  147 

arrange  to  have  them  reach  me.'  You  remember 
where  you  held  up  this  young  fellow.  Well,  two 
miles  farther  up  the  road  is  the  house  of  one  Wil 
liam  Todd.  I  have  suspected  him  for  some  time 
as  being  up  to  some  cute  business,  although  he 
always  shouts  with  the  largest  crowd.  I  '11  bet  a 
plug  of  tobacco  to  a  brass  buckle  that  his  house  is 
the  '  same  place."1  And  we '11  find  the  messenger 
there  who  was  to  have  carried  this  message  to 
Bragg.  He  won't  carry  it,  but  if  we  're  spry,  we  '11 
get  him,  and  somebody  else  will  carry  some  sort  of 
a  message  and  maybe  pick  up  some  little  crumbs  of 
information  in  return.  That 's  the  reason  I  took 
Henry." 

"  Rather  dangerous  for  Henry,  is  n  't  it  ?  "  asked 
Chesterfield,  with  a  side  glance  at  the  quiet  face  of 
that  young  man. 

"  Well,  I  reckon  so,"  answered  Henry,  speaking 
for  himself,  "  but  we  've  all  got  kinder  used  to 
these  things  now." 

Dad  Williamson  cantered  a  few  lengths  ahead, 
and  called  out  in  a  warning  tone  :  "  We  come  to  a 
stream  here.  Take  the  ford  carefully,  for  the  water 
is  high."  Chesterfield  went  in  after  him,  and 
spurring  through  the  foaming  stream  got  safely 
across.  /lust  as  he  emerged  from  the  water  on  the 
opposite  bank,  a  roll  of  thunder  greeted  his  ear, 
while  a  fork  of  lightning  flashed  across  the 
heavens. 

"We'll  get  that  a  little  later,"  he  muttered, 
looking  up  at  the  threatening  sky. 


CHAPTER  XI 
CHESTERFIELD'S  CAPTIVE 

AN  hour  later  the  three  men  dismounted  at  a 
short  distance  from  a  large  house.  The  wind  was 
blowing  heavily ;  fierce  gusts  whirling  from  all 
points  of  the  compass  at  once,  swaying  the  tree- 
tops  madly  and  tossing  their  branches  in  all  direc 
tions  ;  howling  around  the  house,  and  making  the 
hinges  of  a  dilapidated  barn  door  creak  frantically. 
The  horses  cowered  before  the  gale,  and  even  the 
stout-hearted  Henry  bent  his  head  as  he  stood 
holding  his  horse  by  the  bridle. 

"  That 's  Todd's  house,"  said  Dad  Williamson. 
"  Now  do  you  mind  running  a  little  risk,  Chester 
field?" 

"  I  'm  a  non-combatant,"  replied  Benjamin, 
"  but  I  don't  mind  getting  into  a  scrimmage  if  it 
can't  be  avoided.  What  do  you  want  me  to  do?  " 

"  I  want  you  to  go  right  into  the  house." 

Chesterfield  took  out  a  six-shooter  from  his  belt, 
tossed  the  bridle  of  his  horse  to  Henry,  and  pre 
pared  himself  for  the  attack. 

"  Not  that  way,"  said  Dad,  laying  a  restraining 
hand  upon  his  arm.  "You  can  put  up  your  shoot 
ing-iron  for  a  while  and  listen  to  my  project, 


CHESTERFIELD'S   CAPTIVE  149 

although  I  say  beforehand  I  may  be  all  off  in  my 
calculations.  But  if  I  am  right,  and  Todd's  house 
is  the  place  of  meeting  of  these  Confederate  spies, 
then  one  of  them  at  least  is  likely  to  be  here  now. 
That 's  the  young  feller  that  allowed  himself  the 
privilege  of  riding  my  horse." 

"  But  he  will  recognize  me  if  I  go  in  there." 

"  Of  course  he  will,  and  he  '11  want  to  get  the 
horse  back,  won't  he  ?  Because  it 's  a  mighty  fine 
animal,  and  he  probably  got  into  the  habit  of 
thinking  it  was  his.  Now,  according  to  my  idea 
there  's  two  of  these  fellows.  If  they  're  both  in 
side,  well  and  good.  You  give  the  signal ;  Hen  and 
I  '11  come  in  and  bag  them.  But  if  the  second  fellow 
is  n  't  there,  if  he 's  expected  and  comes  up  this 
road  to-night ;  Hen  and  I,  on  the  lookout  outside 
the  house,  will  have  him  sure.  It  is  n  't  likely  any 
one  will  get  in  or  out  of  that  house  without  our 
taking  him." 

Chesterfield  acquiesced. 

"  Now  we  '11  reconnoitre  a  bit,"  said  William 
son.  "  Hen,  tie  the  horses  as  much  in  the  shelter 
of  those  bushes  as  you  can ;  it  looks  as  if  we  might 
have  a  storm  to-night."  Even  as  he  spoke  great 
drops  of  rain  began  to  fall.  The  two  large  men 
stole  silently  forward.  They  found  the  barn  to  be 
a  large  ramshackle  building,  one  part  lacking  a 
roof,  and  the  other  full  of  cracks  and  crevices. 
Williamson  cautiously  opened  the  door,  which 
swung  on  one  hinge.  As  he  did  so,  a  yellow  cur 
ran,  yelping,  to  cower  under  a  wagon  in  the  corner, 


150  THE  CLAYBORNES 

and  a  horse  poked  his  nose  over  the  manger  with 
a  whinny.  The  noise  of  the  tempest  drowned  all 
minor  sounds,  so  there  was  little  fear  of  alarming 
the  house. 

"  Whoever  rode  this  horse  has  been  in  the  house 
some  little  time,  for  the  creature  is  perfectly  dry 
and  as  clean  as  a  bone,"  said  Chesterfield,  running 
his  hand  along  the  animal's  flank. 

"  He 's  a  different  breed  from  those  two  nags 
in  the  end  stalls ;  they  're  poor  cattle,"  said  Wil 
liamson.  "  Look  at  this  saddle.  It 's  fine  and 
new,  while  all  the  others  are  worn-out  things.  One 
of  our  gentlemen  is  in  that  house,  Chesterfield,  as 
sure  as  fighting." 

"  Probably  both  of  them  are,"  replied  the  cor 
respondent,  "for  the  one  I  held  up  doubtless  had 
to  come  on  foot." 

"  You  're  likely  more  than  half  right.  I  '11  leave 
you  to  go  in  and  find  out.  If  there  's  only  one 
besides  Todd,  tap  once  on  the  pane  of  the  kitchen 
window ;  if  you  find  there  are  two,  tap  a  second 
time.  Either  Hen  or  I  will  hear  you,  and  we  '11 
round  'em  up  in  no  time." 

"  I  understand  perfectly,"  replied  Chesterfield. 

"  One  thing  more,"  whispered  Dad  :  "  we  must 
capture  all  their  papers  ;  don't  let  them  get  a 
chance  to  hide  or  destroy  them." 

"  I  understand." 

"  All  right,  now  go  ahead,"  said  Dad  William 
son,  placing  himself  where  he  could  command  the 
house  door  and  the  road. 


CHESTERFIELD'S  CAPTIVE  151 

Silently  and  quickly,  Chesterfield  walked  to 
wards  the  house.  A  single  light  showed  from  one 
of  the  lower  windows  ;  the  rest  of  the  building  was 
clothed  in  darkness.  Chesterfield  laid  his  hand 
upon  the  latch.  He  expected  to  find  the  door 
bolted,  but  to  his  surprise  it  yielded  to  the  pressure, 
and  he  entered  the  room. 

A  man  with  dark  matted  hair,  and  face  red  with 
exposure  to  the  sun  and  wind,  half  rose  from  his 
seat  at  table  with  an  exclamation ;  an  older  man 
by  the  fire  let  a  plate  of  food,  which  he  had  been 
preparing,  fall  to  the  floor. 

"  Darn  it,"  he  said,  "  how  you  startled  me ! 
Who  are  you,  and  what  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  What  would  any  man  want  on  a  night  like  this 
but  a  chance  to  dry  himself  by  the  fire  ?  "  replied 
the  correspondent,  shaking  the  rain  from  his  hat. 

The  man  at  the  table  had  regained  his  self-pos 
session  instantly.  "  Well,  don't  stand  with  the 
door  open,  but  come  up  to  the  fire."  Both  he  and 
Chesterfield,  with  affected  unconcern,  had  been  ey 
ing  each  other  like  two  wary  dogs,  each  taking 
the  other's  measure. 

"  You  're  not  the  man  I  expected  to  find," 
thought  Chesterfield,  as  he  took  up  his  station  in 
front  of  the  grateful  blaze,  removed  his  coat,  and 
hung  it  over  the  back  of  a  chair.  The  man  at  the 
table  resumed  his  meal.  He  had  a  heavy  jaw 
made  black  with  a  three  days'  growth  of  beard  ; 
from  out  his  deep-set  eyes  he  continued  to  watch 
the  newcomer  closely,  his  suspicions,  always  alert, 
aroused  to  a  high  pitch. 


152  THE   CLAYBORNES 

Meanwhile  the  correspondent  stood  jauntily  in 
front  of  the  fire,  a  smile  lighting  up  his  counte 
nance,  while  his  wet  clothing  steamed  vigorously. 

"  Would  you  have  any  objection,"  he  said  plea 
santly,  "  to  my  joining  you  at  supper  ?  I  've  brought 
in  a  devouring  appetite  out  of  the  storm." 

"  I  've  no  objection,  if  Todd  will  give  it  to  you," 
was  the  reply. 

"  Will  you  be  so  good,  Mr.  Todd  ?  "  asked  Ches 
terfield,  without  more  ado  taking  a  seat  at  the  end 
of  the  table  where  he  could  command  a  view  of  the 
whole  room. 

"  No,  I  ain't  got  no  supper  for  you,"  was  the 
gruff  rejoinder. 

"  I  '11  pay  you  for  it,"  answered  Chesterfield 
pleasantly,  taking  a  copper  cent  from  his  pocket 
and  snapping  it  against  the  window-pane. 

"  What  was  that  ?  "  exclaimed  the  man  at  the 
other  end  of  the  table,  rising  from  his  seat. 

"  Perhaps  it 's  the  storm,"  said  Chesterfield. 

"  It  sounded  like  some  one  tapping  on  the 
glass,"  replied  the  other  going  to  the  window.  A 
vivid  flash  of  lightning  greeted  him,  following  it 
came  a  crash  of  thunder.  "  It 's  not  a  fit  night 
for  even  a  dog  to  be  out,"  he  muttered,  resuming 
his  seat  at  the  table. 

"  Stranger,"  he  said  aloud,  with  a  show  of  af 
fability,  "  as  we  seem  destined  to  pass  the  evening 
together  it  might  be  agreeable  to  know  a  little 
more  about  each  other.  My  name  is  Markley. 
When  the  war  broke  out  —  I  did  n't  enlist "  — 


CHESTERFIELD'S  CAPTIVE  153 

this  with  a  laugh  and  shrug  — "  but  I  suppose 
you  did." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Markley,  in  disordered  times  like 
these,  when  it  is  impossible  to  tell  friend  from  foe, 
it  behooves  us  to  deal  frankly  with  one  another.  I 
am  a  correspondent  for  a  St.  Louis  newspaper." 

Chesterfield,  in  telling  the  exact  truth,  hardly 
expected  to  be  believed,  and  he  saw  the  expression 
of  doubt  on  Markley's  face.  The  correspondent 
arose,  got  his  coat  from  the  back  of  the  chair,  and 
slipped  it  on.  As  he  did  so  a  package  of  letters  fell 
from  the  pocket.  He  picked  them  up  and  thrust 
them  carelessly  back,  apparently  unconscious  that 
the  other  man  eyed  them  with  greedy  curiosity. 

Markley  shifted  his  feet  uneasily.  He  more 
than  mistrusted  this  huge  stranger  who  had  ap 
peared  so  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  out  of  the 
storm.  He  suspected  him  as  an  enemy.  He  longed 
to  take  possession  of  the  package  he  had  seen. 

For  the  twentieth  time  he  measured  Chesterfield 
with  his  eye.  It  would  be  folly  to  try  to  over 
come  such  an  antagonist  single-handed.  Markley 
did  not  lack  courage,  but  he  also  possessed  discre 
tion.  Todd  could  be  of  no  aid.  He  must  get  as 
sistance  elsewhere.  He  knew  where  to  seek  it,  but 
it  would  necessitate  a  half-mile  ride  in  the  storm. 
He  looked  across  the  table  at  Chesterfield,  who  was 
contentedly  smoking  his  pipe.  Markley  arose  from 
his  seat.  "  I  'm  going  to  the  stable  to  look  after 
my  horse,  Todd." 

Chesterfield  did  not  move,  and  Markley  went 


154  THE  CLAYBORNES 

out  of  the  door,  and  running  with  his  head  down 
before  the  pelting  rain  made  for  the  barn. 

"  The  devil  himself  must  be  about  to-night,"  he 
muttered,  as  a  deafening  crash  of  thunder  seemed 
to  shake  the  earth. 

A  pair  of  long  arms  encircled  him,  and  he  felt 
himself  held  as  if  in  the  hug  of  a  grizzly  bear, 
while  his  arms  were  fastened  behind. 

"  Bring  the  lantern  here,  Hen,"  said  a  voice. 

Markley  knew  that  he  was  caught  in  a  trap. 
Resistance  was  useless.  "  What  do  you  want  with 
me  ?  "  he  asked  huskily. 

"  I  'm  going  to  take  you  a  prisoner.  Hen !  bring 
up  the  horses." 

"  I  reckon  I  '11  go  quietly  enough,  but  I  only 
ask  one  thing,  stranger." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Unloose  my  hand  so  I  can  get  a  chew  of 
tobacco." 

Dad  Williamson  hung  the  lantern  upon  a  nail, 
carefully  removed  the  revolver  from  the  man's 
belt,  and  then  untied  one  of  his  hands. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  replied  gratefully,  reaching 
for  the  plug,  and  taking  what  seemed  a  refresh 
ing  bite. 

"  I  forgot,"  exclaimed  Dad  Williamson,  suddenly 
seizing  his  prisoner's  cheek  between  his  thumb  and 
finger.  "  Let  me  have  that !  "  He  forced  the  man's 
mouth  open  and  took  out  a  small  wad  of  paper. 
"  I  almost  lost  this  through  my  carelessness,"  said 
Dad  Williamson,  unrolling  it  and  holding  it  to  the 
light. 


CHESTERFIELD'S  CAPTIVE  155 

"  You  're  too  all-fired  smart,"  exclaimed  the 
prisoner,  with  an  oath. 

Dan  chuckled.    "  Hen,  have  you  got  the  horses  ?  " 

Meanwhile  Chesterfield,  knocking  the  ashes 
out  of  his  pipe,  addressed  Todd  urbanely.  "  Mr. 
Todd,  I  'm  waiting  for  a  piece  of  that  succulent 
fried  chicken." 

"  I  have  n't  any  chicken  for  you.  I  don't  keep 
a  hotel." 

"  Todd,"  asked  Chesterfield  suddenly,  "  who  is 
upstairs  ?  " 

Todd  was  startled.  He  opened  his  mouth,  but 
the  reply  faltered  on  his  lips. 

"  Don't  tell  me  I  did  not  hear  some  one  walk 
ing  above  our  heads,"  said  Chesterfield,  "  because 
the  boards  are  loose  and  they  squeak." 

"  Perhaps  it  was  the  rats,"  suggested  Todd. 

"  No,  it  was  not  rats,"  replied  Chesterfield  firmly. 

"  It  must  have  been  my  daughter,  then,"  said 
Todd  in  a  deprecatory  tone. 

"  I  thought  you  were  a  bachelor." 

"  A  widower,  sir." 

"  Are  those  your  daughter's  boots,  Mr.  Todd  ?  " 
inquired  Chesterfield  pointing  to  a  corner  near  the 
fire.  They  were  gentlemen's  riding-boots  of  the 
finest  make,  and  of  small  proportions.  The  man 
who  owned  them  must  have  been  a  dapper  youth, 
and  somewhat  vain  of  his  small  feet.  The  boots 
were  splashed  with  mud  and  water. 

"  Those  are  my  son's  boots." 

"  Is  your  son  in  the  house  ?  " 


156  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  No,  he  is  away  from  home." 

«  But  the  boots  are  wet,  Mr.  Todd." 

"  So  they  are,  so  they  are.  My  daughter  must 
have  been  wearing  them." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  the  young  lady,"  said 
Chesterfield  with  animation,  rising  suddenly  from 
the  table. 

Todd  placed  himself  in  front  of  the  door  which 
opened  on  the  stairs.  "  Will  you  not  respect  the 
sanctity  of  my  home  ?  " 

"  But  I  was  so  certain  that  you  were  a  bachelor, 
Todd." 

"  No,  sir,  a  wid  "  — 

Chesterfield  had  gently  lifted  him  from  his  feet 
and  put  him  away  from  the  door.  "  I  really  must 
see  this  mysterious  daughter  of  yours,"  with  his 
hand  upon  the  latch. 

Todd  caught  the  correspondent  by  the  sleeve, 
and  held  on  with  a  tenacity  surprising  for  one  of 
his  years.  Chesterfield  disengaged  himself  from 
the  old  man's  grasp. 

"  A  most  remarkable  and  interesting  daughter, 
Todd,"  he  exclaimed,  and  dashed  up  the  stairway. 

The  weak-kneed  Todd  hesitated  a  moment,  then 
fled  from  the  house,  exclaiming  to  himself,  "  I 
reckon  I  'm  safer  away  out  of  this." 

On  the  landing  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  were 
three  doors.  Chesterfield  tried  to  open  the  one 
which  he  knew  must  lead  to  the  room  over  the 
kitchen  ;  but  as  he  expected  he  found  it  locked. 
He  threw  himself  against  it  with  his  full  weight, 


CHESTERFIELD'S  CAPTIVE  157 

broke  through  with  a  crash,  and  fell  headlong  in  a 
room  of  darkness.  A  peal  of  thunder  shook  the 
whole  house  at  the  same  instant,  and  a  vivid  flash 
of  lightning  revealed  to  him  a  long  garret  half 
filled  with  worn-out  and  discarded  pieces  of  furni 
ture.  In  the  middle  of  the  room,  from  behind  a 
pile  of  boxes,  a  figure  rose  to  its  feet  and  a  pistol 
was  fired  point  blank  at  Chesterfield.  The  bullet 
flew  wide  of  its  mark.  In  the  pitchy  darkness 
that  followed  the  lightning's  flash  Chesterfield 
leaped  forward.  The  storm  was  raging  furiously 
outside,  with  peal  upon  peal  of  thunder.  The 
lightning  flashed  at  intervals  of  a  few  seconds, 
changing  the  scene  from  dark  to  light  with  blind 
ing  rapidity.  In  the  next  flash  Chesterfield  saw 
the  figure  disappear  through  an  open  window. 
He  was  after  it  in  a  trice.  A  ladder  was  against 
the  house  under  the  window,  but  without  hesitat 
ing  the  tall  Chesterfield  swung  from  the  sill  to 
the  ground  just  in  time  to  receive  plump  in  his 
arms  the  person  who  had  sprung  from  the  ladder. 

"  I  've  got  you  tight,  my  little  "  —  he  began, 
then  stopped  with  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  for 
he  held  a  woman  in  his  arms,  and  she  fought  him 
valiantly.  "  Softly,"  he  said  in  response  to  a 
stinging  blow  on  the  side  of  the  head.  "  You  are 
active.  Let  me  hold  your  hands.  Now  the  other 
paw,  kitty.  Don't  scratch." 

She  did  not  cry  out,  but  reserving  all  her  breath 
and  strength,  struggled  splendidly,  bending  her 
supple  body  this  way  and  that,  striking  at  him 


158  THE  CLAYBORNES 

like  a  fierce  young  tiger-cat.  In  the  flare  of  the 
lightning  he  could  see  a  mass  of  dark  hair  and  a 
pair  of  eyes  that  blazed  at  him  fiercely.  He  cap 
tured  both  her  hands  in  one  of  his  and  held  her 
so  she  could  move  neither  hand  nor  foot.  She 
felt  her  utter  helplessness,  and  ceased  to  struggle. 
She  did  not  cry  and  call  him  coward,  but  panted 
out  with  all  the  breath  that  remained  to  her: 
"  Now  that  the  man  you  were  after  has  got  away, 
don't  you  think  you  had  better  let  me  go  ?  " 

"  Is  n't  that  asking  a  good  deal,  seeing  I  've  had 
so  much  trouble  to  catch  you  ?  " 

"  But  how  long  are  you  going  to  hold  me  like 
this  ?  It 's  very  unpleasant  for  me." 

"  While  I  ponder  this  matter  over.  It  is  very 
unpleasant  for  me  to  think  how  you  have  tried  to 
thwart  me." 

"  I  'm  very  sorry,"  and  she  gave  a  little  low 
laugh.  "  Won't  you  please  let  me  go  ?  " 

"  If  you  promise  not  to  show  any  more  fight." 

"  I  promise  not  to  —  for  the  present,"  she  re 
plied.  "  You  see  I  'm  not  a  match  for  you." 

Chesterfield  partially  released  her,  but  still  kept 
his  hand  upon  her  arm. 

"  Are  you  afraid  I  '11  run  away?  "  she  asked. 

"Yes." 

"  I  '11  promise  you  I  won't." 

Chesterfield's  only  reply  was,  "  Come  with  me 
into  the  house ;  I  want  to  talk  with  you." 

Taking  her  by  the  arm,  he  led  the  way  toward 
the  kitchen  door.  She  offered  no  resistance,  but 
went  meekly  with  him. 


CHESTERFIELD'S  CAPTIVE  159 

The  fire  burned  low  on  the  hearth.  Chester 
field  threw  in  a  few  large  sticks  and  had  a  blaze 
roaring  up  the  chimney.  Seating  himself  on  a 
bench  beside  it,  he  held  his  prisoner  off  at  arms' 
length,  much  as  one  might  hold  a  naughty  child, 
and  looked  into  her  face  long  and  steadily. 

She  returned  his  gaze  unflinchingly.  Her  dark 
hair,  which  in  the  struggle  had  become  loosened, 
lay  in  rich  disorder  about  her  shoulders  and  over  a 
bosom  which  rose  and  fell  with  suppressed  excite 
ment.  Her  breath  came  rather  quickly  through 
her  parted  lips,  and  a  little  smile  hovered  in  the 
corners  of  her  mouth,  and  was  reflected  in  her 
eyes  with  a  half-saucy,  half-mischievous  expres 
sion.  She  was  a  woman  who  possessed  the  power 
of  beauty ;  glowing,  radiant,  ardent  beauty,  and 
she  was  fully  conscious  of  her  power. 

Chesterfield  gave  a  long  low  whistle.  "  I  have 
seen  you  before,"  he  said. 

She  made  no  reply. 

"  You  had  on  boots  and  trousers,"  he  continued 
slowly,  "  and  you  certainly  wore  them  as  if  to  the 
manner  born ;  and  now  I  think  you  had  better 
give  an  account  of  yourself." 

She  tossed  her  head  back  quickly.  "  Why 
should  I  give  an  account  of  myself  to  you,  sir?" 

"  Because  I  demand  it." 

"  You  demand  it,  and  by  what  right,  may  I 
ask?"  and  her  eyes  flashed  at  him  indignantly. 

"  By  the  right  of  might.  You  are  in  my  power, 
so  you  had  better  answer  my  questions  at  once  and 
truthfully." 


160  THE  CLAYBORNES 

A  flush  deepened  on  her  warm  cheek  as  she 
looked  into  the  cool  gray  eyes  that  seemed  to  read 
her  so  searchingly;  a  feeling  of  uneasiness  took 
possession  of  her ;  for  almost  the  first  time  in  her 
life  she  was  at  a  loss  for  words. 

"  You  are  not  polite,"  she  said. 

"  No,"  replied  Chesterfield  coldly,  "  I  am  not 
polite,  but  I  am  curious  and  you  must  satisfy  my 
curiosity  upon  the  following  points :  Who  was  that 
man  with  Todd  downstairs  ?  who  are  you  ?  and 
what  were  you  both  doing  in  the  house  of  this  man 
Todd,  whom  I  know  to  be  a  double-faced  fellow  ?  " 

"  And  if  1  refuse  to  satisfy  your  curiosity," 
she  answered  pertly. 

"  Then  you  shall  have  an  opportunity  to  satisfy 
the  curiosity  of  the  Federal  commander  at  Mem 
phis,  for  I  shall  take  you  there." 

"  I  will  not  deny,"  she  went  on  with  a  burst  of 
frankness,  "  that  he  is  an  officer  in  the  Confederate 
army,  and  that  he  came  here  to  see  me  at  my 
uncle's,  Mr.  William  "Todd.  The  gentleman  is  not 
upon  furlough,  and  his  interview  with  me  was 
stolen.  Your  coming  annoyed  him  and  it  annoyed 
me." 

"  Is  that  the  reason  you  tried  to  shoot  me  in  the 
garret  ?  "  She  did  not  reply  at  once,  and  Ches 
terfield  took  up  her  hand.  It  was  a  strong,  firm 
hand,  a  little  brown  from  exposure  to  the  sun. 
"  That  is  the  hand  which  pointed  a  revolver  at  my 
head  a  few  minutes  ago.  So  I  annoyed  you  and 
you  tried  to  kill  me,"  he  continued  coolly. 


CHESTERFIELD'S  CAPTIVE  161 

"  I  thought  you  wanted  to  harm  him,"  and  the 
dark  lashes  veiled  the  eyes  for  a  moment. 

"Was  he  afraid?" 

"  We  are  none  of  us  afraid,"  and  she  looked  up 
at  him  proudly. 

Chesterfield  looked  searchingly  into  her  face  as 
he  said  calmly,  "  That  man  is  not  your  suitor. 
Todd  is  not  your  uncle,  and  I  don't  believe  a  word 
of  your  story." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  I  'm  sure  it  does 
not  make  any  difference  to  me." 

"But,"  said  Chesterfield,  "there  is  a  certain 
young  woman  who  has  had  an  active  career,  who 
has  caused  much  consternation,  cutting  a  wide 
swath  in  and  outside  of  the  Union  lines." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you.  Of  what  are  you 
accusing  me  ?  " 

"  Of  nothing,"  replied  Chesterfield,  "  but  I  shall 
have  to  take  you  where  those  who  have  had  the 
pleasure  of  knowing  that  agreeable  young  person 
can  have  an  opportunity  to  recognize  her." 

Throughout  most  of  the  interview  the  girl  had 
maintained  her  composure,  meeting  Chesterfield's 
searching  inquiry  with  the  assurance  of  one  who 
feels  secure  of  her  position.  At  these  words,  spoken 
with  great  deliberation,  she  trembled  slightly  as  if 
from  excitement  or  fear.  When  he  had  finished 
she  hesitated  for  a  moment,  as  if  debating  in  her 
mind  just  what  course,  to  pursue.  When  she  did 
speak,  it  was  in  a  quiet  and  submissive  tone  of 
voice. 


162  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  I  do  not  quite  understand  you  yet,  but  I  do 
understand  that  you  threaten  to  carry  me  away, 
under  the  impression  that  I  am  some  one  else. 
Who  is  this  young  woman  in  question  —  anybody 
very  bad  ?  " 

"She  is  a  Confederate  spy;  beautiful,  accom 
plished,  clever,  and  witty,  and  she  has  played  the 
very  old  Ned  in  more  ways  than  one." 

The  girl  broke  into  a  melodious  laugh.  "  How 
absurd,  how  preposterous !  And  you  think  that  I 
am  this  creature,  —  this  beautiful,  accomplished, 
witty,  clever  incarnation  of  wickedness.  Really, 
sir,  I  don't  know  whether  I  should  feel  flattered 
at  the  compliment,"  -  here  she  dropped  him  a 
curtsy  — "  or  whether  I  should  consider  myself 
insulted,"  and  she  drew  herself  up,  "  and  be  angry 
at  you  for  being  so  —  stupid." 

Chesterfield  made  no  direct  answer,  but  stepping 
forward  said,  "  We  must  start  now." 

"  Do  you  actually  mean  to  drag  me  out  in  the 
night,  in  this  weather,  twenty-five  or  thirty  miles 
through  mud  and  rain  ?  " 

"  You  will  have  to  go  with  me,"  replied  Chester 
field  placidly. 

"It  is  too  absurd,  too  preposterously  out  of  all 
reason  ! "  she  exclaimed,  walking  up  and  down  the 
room  excitedly. 

Chesterfield  stood  calmly  by  and  watched  her. 

She  stopped  in  front  of  him,  and  looking  up  into 
his  face  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  And  if  this  woman, 
of  whom  you  speak  so  strangely,  were  caught  and 


CHESTERFIELD'S  CAPTIVE  163 

taken  to  the  Union  army,  what  would  be  done  with 
her?" 

"  I  am  afraid  it  will  fare  ill  with  Flora  Dowd 
when  she  is  captured." 

"  Flora  Dowd  ?  "  she  repeated  inquiringly. 

"  Yes,  that  is  her  name." 

"  That  is  not  my  name." 

"  So  much  the  better  for  you,"  replied  Chester 
field. 

"  Then  you  will  not  take  me"  she  murmured, 
looking  at  him  pleadingly. 

«  Yes,  I  shall." 

"  I  am  not  she.  Pray  do  not  force  me  to  go  with 
you !  "  the  young  woman  cried  again. 

"  If  you  are  no't  she,  why  do  you  fear  to  go  ?  "  he 
asked  quietly. 

"  The  disgrace  of  it,"  she  flared  out.  "  Cannot 
you  understand  the  feeling  of  shame  and  disgrace 
at  being  haled  before  a  lot  of  rude  men  ?  To  be 
catechised,  browbeaten,  bullied,  and  insulted  !  Oh, 
the  shame  of  it !  "  and  she  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands. 

Chesterfield  watched  her  without  apparent  emo 
tion.  "  Believe  me,  you  will  not  be  insulted.  You 
will  be  shown  all  possible  consideration." 

She  took  her  hands  away  suddenly.  Her  lashes 
were  moist,  and  there  was  a  catch  in  her  voice  as 
she  said  :  "I  am  sure  you  will  treat  me  with  re 
spect.  A  man  like  you,  large,  strong,  brave,  must 
be  generous  and  noble.  I  appeal  to  your  generos 
ity  —  I  trust  to  your  nobility." 


164  THE  CLAYBORNES 

Chesterfield  bowed. 

"  And  you  will  not  force  me  to  go  with  you  ?  " 
she  inquired  eagerly. 

"  I  regret  it,  but  you  must  go,"  was  the  reply 
in  the  same  tranquil  manner. 

"  I  will  not,"  she  cried  out,  clinching  her  hands 
and  looking  at  him  defiantly.  "  You  shall  not  force 
me." 

His  only  reply  was  to  step  forward  and  lift  her 
from  the  floor.  She  struggled  fiercely,  her  supple 
body  twisting  and  turning  in  his  arms,  while  she 
cried  out  to  him,  pleaded  with  him  in  alternate 
tones  of  command  and  entreaty  to  set  her  down 
upon  her  feet. 

Out  of  the  door  he  walked,  towards  the  barn, 
carrying  the  struggling  woman  in  his  arms.  With 
one  hand  which  she  had  managed  to  get  free  she 
beat  him  violently  about  the  head,  so  violently  that 
the  hand  was  bruised  and  bleeding,  but  he  minded 
the  blows  no  more  than  the  rain  that  fell  down 
upon  his  head. 

"  By  George,"  cried  the  voice  of  Dad  William 
son,  "  what  have  you  got  there  ?  " 

"  The  other  fellow,"  answered  Chesterfield,  reach 
ing  for  his  horse's  bridle. 

"  Darned  if  it  is  n't  a  woman."  • 

"  If  you  have  any  manhood  left  in  you  I  pray 
that  you  let  me  go,"  she  cried. 

"  Williamson,"  said  Chesterfield,  "  this  is  the 
person  who  was  riding  your  horse.  Furthermore, 
I  have  many  reasons  to  think  that  this  young 


CHESTERFIELD'S  CAPTIVE  165 

woman  is  a  Confederate  spy,  who,  as  Grant  says, 
has  caused  more  havoc  than  a  troop  of  horse ;  but 
I  leave  the  matter  for  you  to  decide.  Shall  I  let 
her  go  ?  " 

"  I  should  -say  not,  Chesterfield.  Now  we  've 
captured  the  pair  of  'em.  If  the  filly  runs  in  that 
kind  of  a  double  team  she  will  have  to  take  the 
consequences." 

"  Oh,  do  not  do  as  he  says,  Mr.  Chesterfield ;  I 
appeal  to  you  once  more,"  cried  the  girl. 

Chesterfield  made  no  reply,  but  mounted  his 
horse,  and  drew  her  to  the  saddle  in  front  of  him. 

"  All  ready,  Hen  ?"  inquired  Williamson. 

"  All  ready,  Dad !  " 

At  the  word  from  Williamson  they  set  off  down 
the  road,  Williamson  riding  ahead,  Henry  with  his 
prisoner's  horse  tied  to  his  own,  and  Chesterfield 
and  his  charge  bringing  up  the  rear. 

Splashing  through  mud  and  water  down  the  road 
they  went.  Deaf  to  all  her  entreaties,  unmindful 
of  her  struggles,  Chesterfield  held  the  woman  tightly 
on  the  saddle  as  they  rode  through  the  storm. 

At  last,  completely  exhausted,  the  girl  lay  still, 
the  wild  wind  blowing  her  hair  and  the  rain  beat 
ing  into  her  hot  face.  Chesterfield  disengaged  his 
own  riding-cloak,  and  wrapped  it  around  her.  Thus 
they  made  their  way  through  the  night.  Not  a 
word  was  spoken.  At  the  end  of  an  hour's  time 
he  parted  the  folds  of  the  cloak  which  encircled 
her  face  and  looked  down  into  it.  Worn  out  by 
exertion  and  fruitless  struggle,  she  lay  quietly. 
He  studied  the  face  long  and  carefully. 


CHAPTER  XII 

A   LETTER   FROM   THE   FRONT 

MILLIKEK'S  BEND,  April  — ,  1863. 
MY   DEAR   LITTLE    COMRADE, As    much  ES  I 

long  to  see  your  sweet  face,  I  hope  you  will  not  get 
the  appointment  as  field  nurse.  I  could  not  bear  to 
think  of  you  as  being  exposed  to  the  privations 
and  dangers  which  such  a  life  would  entail.  There 
are  many  stronger  women  for  this  work,  and  you 
are  better  fitted  for  the  work  you  are  doing  in 
Washington.  There  is  so  much  sickness  in  this 
frightful  climate,  —  the  chances  are  that  you  would 
be  taken  ill  yourself.  When  I  come  to  Washing 
ton  after  the  war,  I  want  to  find  you  looking  just 
the  same  as  when  I  last  saw  you.  I  want  to  see 
that  color  in  your  cheek.  I  want  to  see  the  same 
brightness  in  your  eyes.  Keep  those  eyes  bright, 
for  the  sake  of  —  your  father,  your  brother,  and 
all  those  who  care  for  you. 

I  think  I  am  unselfish,  after  a  fashion,  —  in 
writing  you  thus,  for  if  you  did  come  out  I  might 
get  an  opportunity  to  see  you,  and  that  would  give 
me  great  happiness.  However,  until  the  war  is 
over,  I  must  be  consoled  with  your  letters.  Re 
member  how  much  they  are  to  me.  I  never  see 


A  LETTER  FROM  THE  FRONT  167 

your  delicate  handwriting  upon  an  envelope  with 
out  a  leap  of  the  heart.  I  have  not  received  a 
letter  from  you  for  a  long  time.  Can  it  be  that 
you  have  forgotten  me  ?  Perhaps  you  have  written 
and  the  letter  has  gone  astray.  I  hope  you  have 
written,  although  it  makes  me  wild  to  think  that 
possibly  your  little  letter  has  missed  its  mark  and 
fallen  into  other  hands.  If  it  has  gone  astray,  will 
you  not  write  again  ? 

The  army  is  deep  in  the  problem  of  taking 
Vicksburg,  and  we  all  are  much  of  the  time  waist 
deep  in  mud  and  water.  Many  a  poor  fellow  is 
sick  with  fever ;  but  luckily  for  me,  I  have  so  far 
escaped.  I  have  just  been  ordered  up  the  river  to 
Memphis,  to  bring  down  some  supplies  on  a  trans 
port.  I  am  delighted  at  the  thought  of  a  change, 
for  I  was  never  made  for  a  water-rat  or  a  beaver. 
I  start  at  once  on  the  steamer  River  Queen.  I 
cannot  say  exactly  when  I  shall  return,  but  when  I 
do  get  back,  the  first  thing  I  shall  look  for  will  be 
an  envelope  bearing  your  familiar  and  prized  hand 
writing, —  and  wherever  I  may  be,  afloat  or  ashore, 
I  think  of  you,  and  am 

Your  devoted, 

GORDON  CLAYBORNE. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
THE   PRISONER   ON  THE   RIVER   QUEEN 

CAPTAIN  CLAYBORNE  had  been  sent  up  the 
river  to  Memphis,  to  bring  down  a  transport  laden 
with  supplies  for  the  soldiers  and  fodder  for  the 
animals. 

On  a  wet  April  morning,  bent  on  hastening  the 
hour  of  departure,  he  rode  down  to  the  wharf 
where  the  River  Queen  was  taking  aboard  her 
cargo.  As  Clayborne  stood  watching  the  men  roll 
up  the  barrels  of  pork,  bacon,  flour,  and  salt,  and 
pile  the  decks  high  with  bales  of  hay  and  bags  of 
grain,  Benjamin  Chesterfield  came  down  on  the 
dock  in  company  with  the  black-bearded  scout, 
Dad  Williamson.  "  Good  morning,  captain,"  said 
the  newspaper  correspondent  cheerfully,  "  have 
you  the  command  of  this  expedition  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  am  going  to  take  some  supplies  down 
the  river." 

"  Well,  we  have  come  to  add  to  your  cargo." 

"  In  what  way  ?  " 

"  Williamson  has  two  rebel  spies  on  his  hands. 
He  has  made  quite  an  important  capture,  and  has 
been  instructed  to  send  them  down  the  river  for 
examination." 


THE  PRISONER  ON  THE  RIVER  QUEEN    169 

"  Very  good ;  Lieutenant  Brainard  here  will  take 
charge  of  them.  Brainard,  will  you  please  see  that 
the  two  prisoners  are  safely  stored  away  with  the 
rest  of  the  freight  ?  " 

"  One  of  them  is  named  Markley,  and  the  other 
and  the  most  important  one  is  a  woman,  Flora 
Dowd,"  said  Chesterfield,  "  and  I  warn  you,  Cap 
tain,  that  she  is  as  clever  a  piece  of  womankind  as 
you  have  ever  seen." 

"  Brainard,  put  your  fair  prisoner  in  one  of  the 
staterooms  on  the  main  deck,"  said  Clay  borne. 
"  Shall  we  put  a  double  guard  over  her,  Chester 
field  ?  "  he  added  laughingly. 

"  Yes,  if  you  want  to  keep  her  safely." 

"  You  hear  that,  Lieutenant,  you  've  got  to  be 
vigilant.  Now  please  get  your  prisoners  aboard  as 
soon  as  possible,  for  I  want  to  start  almost  imme 
diately." 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  replied  the  lieutenant,  as  he 
walked  off  with  the  scout. 

"  Chesterfield,  are  you  going  down  with  us  ? " 
inquired  Gordon. 

"  I  'm  coming  down  on  the  Huntress  in  a  few 
days." 

"  Well,  good-day  until  we  meet  again,"  and 
Clayborne  went  up  the  gang-plank. 

A  young  second  lieutenant  with  highly  polished 
buttons  on  his  coat  came  running  up  the  gang 
plank  after  him. 

"  Captain  Clayborne,"  he  called  out,  "  I  have 
instructions  to  report  to  you  and  go  down  the  river 
on  the  Queen.  When  do  you  start  ?  " 


170  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  Oh,  Lieutenant  Ware,"  replied  Clayborne 
cordially,  "  I  'm  glad  to  see  you.  Come  aboard  ; 
we  shall  start  at  once." 

Half  an  hour  later  the  boat  was  puffing  down 
the  Mississippi  River.  Lieutenant  Francis  Ware 
was  happy  in  the  thought  that  he  had  at  last  been 
relieved  from  garrison  duty  and  was  really  going 
to  the  front,  with  the  prospect  of  immediate  active 
service. 

"  Ware,"  said  first  lieutenant  Brainard,  coming 
up  to  him,  "  I  shall  be  very  much  occupied  with 
some  accounts  while  we  are  going  down  the  river. 
I  shall  have  to  ask  you  to  take  charge  of  two  pris 
oners  who  are  on  board,  one  in  a  stateroom  on  the 
upper  main  deck,  the  other  in  a  cabin  below.  You 
will  please  see  that  they  have  proper  food  and  care, 
but  keep  a  guard  outside  of  their  doors  day  and 
night." 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  was  the  reply. 

Clayborne  stood  in  the  pilot-house  by  the  side 
of  the  steamboat  captain,  watching  the  flat  shores 
of  the  river  as  the  River  Queen,  steamed  slowly 
along.  "  What 's  the  matter  with  your  boat,  cap 
tain  ? "  he  demanded.  "  Can't  she  make  better 
speed  than  this  ?  Why,  we  are  crawling  along  at 
not  over  six  miles  an  hour." 

"  The  fact  is,  sir,"  replied  the  steamboat  captain, 
"  the  old  craft  is  heavy  laden  and  her  boilers  are 
not  over  strong." 

"  By  Jove,  we  won't  get  to  Milliken's  Bend  for 
three  days.  I  counted  on  getting  there  in  half 
that  time." 


THE  PRISONER  ON  THE  RIVER   QUEEN    171 

"  Can't  help  it,  sir ;  we  '11  be  lucky  to  get  there 
in  three  days." 

There  was  nothing  more  to  be  said.  The  pro 
spect  was  far  from  pleasant,  and  Gordon  stood 
chewing  the  ends  of  his  mustache  in  an  impatient 
mood,  when  a  corporal  came  up  to  him  and  placed 
a  slip  of  paper  in  his  hand.  Gordon  read  it  with 
a  start. 

"  Who  gave  you  this  ?  "  he  demanded  hastily. 

"  It  is  from  one  of  the  prisoners,  sir.  The 
woman,  Flora  Dowd,  sir." 

Gordon  went  to  the  main  deck,  followed  by  the 
corporal. 

A  sentry  posted  in  front  of  a  stateroom  door 
saluted. 

"  Corporal,  send  for  the  officer  in  charge  of  the 
prisoners,"  said  Gordon,  walking  up  and  down  the 
deck  restlessly. 

In  a  few  minutes  Ware  appeared. 

Clayborne  addressed  him  briefly  with :  "  Give 
me  the  key  to  this  door,  Lieutenant.  You  may 
withdraw  the  guard  until  I  return  you  the  key 
later."  With  this  he  entered  the  room. 

If  the  woman  was  in  the  least  agitated  at  the 
sight  of  Captain  Clayborne,  she  succeeded  in  con 
cealing  her  emotion  admirably. 

"  Gordon,  when  I  learned  that  you  were  in 
command  I  took  the  liberty  of  sending  for  you," 
she  said,  as  composed  and  tranquil  as  a  summer's 
day. 

Gordon  stood  and  looked  at  her  in  silence.    Her 


172  THE  CLAYBORNES 

riding-boots  and  the  short-skirted  dress  were  wet 
and  splashed  with  mud,  yet  she  carried  herself 
with  her  accustomed  graceful  ease.  Although 
during  the  night  she  had  ridden  for  many  hours 
through  the  storm,  her  color  was  as  fresh  and  her 
eyes  as  bright  as  if  she  had  just  arisen  from  a  re 
freshing  sleep. 

"  Regina,  what  have  you  to  do  with  Flora 
Dowd  ?  "  asked  Gordon  sternly. 

"  I  am  sometimes  called  Flora  Dowd,"  she 
replied  sweetly. 

"  Flora  Dowd,  the  spy,"  he  repeated  slowly. 

"  That  is  what  some  persons  say,"  she  answered; 
"  but  I  am  Regina  Bowie  to  you,  Gordon,"  and  she 
held  out  her  hand  to  him. 

He  did  not  move. 

"  Won't  you  take  it  ?  "  she  asked  quietly. 

He  took  the  hand,  saying,  "  Regina,  how  is  it 
possible  that  you,  the  proud  and  fastidious,  could 
become  a  spy  ?  " 

She  dropped  his  hand,  crying  out  passionately : 
"  What  I  have  done  is  for  a  glorious  and  sacred 
cause.  I  am  better  and  nobler  for  being  known 
and  reviled  by  the  Yankees  as  Flora  Dowd." 
Then  with  a  swift  transition  of  mood  she  said  in 
her  low,  sweet  voice  :  "  But  you  and  I  can  never  be 
enemies,  Gordon.  Let  me  speak  to  you  as  I  used 
to  long  ago  —  as  a  friend.  Oh,  Gordon,  I  need  a 
friend  —  I  need  a  friend." 

The  sob  in  the  woman's  voice  touched  him. 

"  Regina,"  he  said,  with  an  emotion  which  he 


THE  PRISONER  ON  THE   RIVER  QUEEN    173 

did  not  succeed  in  concealing  from  her,  "  what  is 
my  friendship  worth  to  you  ?  Do  you  not  realize 
your  position  ?  " 

"  I  do  realize  it,"  she  replied  quietly.  "  It  is 
one  of  the  strange  mischances  of  life,  but  it  is  no 
more  strange  than  my  whole  existence  has  been 
since  we  last  saw  each  other.  Won't  you  sit 
down,  Gordon,  and  let  me  tell  some  of  the  things 
I  have  done  ?  " 

"  You  must  tell  me  nothing,"  he  said  quietly. 
"  I  have  never  known  that  you  were  Flora  Dowd. 
I  only  know  you  now  as  Regina  Bowie." 

"  Oh,  I  forgot,"  she  replied  with  equal  quick 
ness,  "  you  are  one  of  the  enemy." 

"  You  should  remember  it  for  your  own  sake, 
for  if  I  am  called  to  give  testimony  "  — 

"  To  give  testimony  "  —  she  repeated,  interrupt 
ing  him.  •  "  Oh,  of  course  you  would  have  to  repeat 
under  oath  all  I  had  told  you.  How  stupid  of  me 
not  to  have  thought  of  that  before.  But,  Gordon, 
you  will  let  me  talk  to  you  of  Clifford.  I  have  seen 
him  many  times  within  the  year.  Surely  you  would 
like  to  talk  about  your  brother  and  your  father  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  with  feeling,  sitting  down 
upon  a  camp  chair.  "  Tell  me  everything  you  can 
about  them." 

When  Gordon  came  back  to  the  quarter-deck 
he  found  young  Ware  walking  up  and  down  study 
ing  a  copy  of  army  tactics,  while  from  the  deck 
below  came  the  monotonous  tones  of  a  sergeant's 
voice  as  he  drilled  a  squad  of  recruits. 


174  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  Ware,"  said  Clayborne,  "  see  that  the  prisoners 
are  well  cared  for ;  let  them  want  for  nothing." 

"  They  shall  be  well  cared  for,  Captain.  It 
seems  impossible  that  such  a  refined  woman  could 
be  a  spy.  I  have  often  heard  of  the  exploits  of 
Flora  Dowd.  I  had  been  told  that  she  was  hand 
some,  but  I  never  imagined  she  was  so  beautiful. 
I  never  imagined  that  the  dare-devil  Flora  would 
turn  out  to  be  such  a  graceful  and  brilliant  crea 
ture.  What  do  you  suppose  " — 

"  Lieutenant  Ware,"  interrupted  Gordon  with 
some  impatience,  "  I  don't  suppose  anything.  I 
merely  wanted  to  say  to  you  that  Miss  Dowd, 
although  a  prisoner,  is  to  be  treated  with  the  con 
sideration  due  a  lady." 

"  The  caution  is  quite  unnecessary,  sir,"  re 
plied  the  young  man,  with  a  stiff  bow  as  he  walked 
away. 

Gordon  wished  to  be  alone  and  undisturbed, 
and  he  walked  out  to  the  bow  of  the  vessel.  His 
thoughts  dwelt  continually  on  Regina  Bowie.  Why 
in  the  name  of  all  that  was  wonderful  had  it  fallen 
to  his  lot  to  have  charge  of  her  as  a  prisoner  ?  Her 
cry,  "  Oh,  Gordon,  I  need  a  friend  !  "  rang  con 
stantly  in  his  ears. 

All  day  Clayborne's  face  wore  a  look  of  care 
worn  preoccupation.  He  spent  most  of  his  time 
walking  the  deck.  Regina  Bowie  sent  again  to 
ask  if  he  would  not  come  to  see  her.  Although 
such  an  interview  was  painful  to  him,  he  was  un 
able  to  refuse.  She  was  most  subdued  and  gentle 


THE  PRISONER  ON  THE  RIVER  QUEEN    175 

in  her  manner ;  humility  and  submission  became 
her  wonderfully. 

"  Gordon,  you  surely  are  not  afraid  that  I  shall 
escape  from  this  boat  in  mid-river ;  won't  you  let 
me  out  on  deck  to  take  the  air  ?  "  This  was  not 
unreasonable,  so  he  gave  her  the  liberty  of  the 
quarter-deck.  At  her  request  he  walked  with 
her. 

"  Gordon,  when  do  we  come  to  our  journey's 
end  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  In  about  three  days." 

"And  then  you  deliver  me  over  to  my  other 
jailers  ?  "  she  asked  quietly. 

"  Other  jailers,"  he  repeated,  with  a  slight  accent 
of  reproach  in  his  voice.  "  Have  I  treated  you  as  if 
I  were  your  jailer,  Regina  ?  " 

"  Forgive  me,  Gordon,"  she  said  quickly,  "  if  I 
sometimes  speak  bitterly,  but  I  cannot  help  feeling 
bitter  every  time  I  think  that  you  are  one  of  the 
foes  of  my  country.  It  is  that  which  hurts  me 
more  than  any  fear  of  what  my  fate  will  be." 

"  It  is  useless  for  us  to  try  to  discuss  that  mat 
ter,  Regina,"  was  Gordon's  answer. 

"  I  know  it,"  she  answered,  with  a  sigh. 

They  walked  the  deck  in  silence  for  some  time. 

"  Gordon,"  whispered  Regina,  stopping  suddenly 
in  her  walk  and  looking  up  into  his  face,  "  what 
will  they  do  with  me  ?  Will  they  hang  me  ?  " 
Her  lips  trembled  a  little  as  she  spoke. 

"  No,  Regina,  they  will  not." 

"  But  they  hang  spies,  do  they  not  ?  " 


176  THE  CLAYBORNES  * 

"  Yes,  but  I  do  not  think  that  they  will  hang  a 
woman." 

"  And  Markley  ?  " 

"  If  he  is  convicted  of  being  a  spy,  he  will  un 
doubtedly  be  executed." 

Regina  Bowie  shuddered.  "  You  say  they  will 
not  execute  a  woman,  Gordon,  and  you  believe  it 
because  you  are  a  chivalrous  man ;  but  these 
Yankees  will  not  spare  me  because  I  am  a  woman." 

"  Do  not  allow  yourself  to  get  into  any  fever  of 
alarm,  Regina.  I  cannot  say  what  the  decision  of 
the  court  will  be,  but  I  feel  certain  that  it  would 
not  condemn  a  woman  to  death.  I  do  believe, 
however,  that  you  will  be  kept  in  some  restraint 
until  the  war  is  over." 

"  In  restraint !  "  she  repeated  :  "  you  mean  in 
prison  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  In  some  Northern  prison  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  I  would  rather  die  first !  "  she  cried  fiercely. 
"  I  would  rather  die  a  thousand  times  than  be  sent 
North  to  be  kept  in  one  of  their  vile  prisons,  to 
have  the  Northern  women  stare  at  me,  to  be 
pointed  out  as  Flora  Dowd,  the  female  spy !  " 

Gordon  stood  looking  at  her  with  commiseration. 

"  I  suppose  they  will  send  me  to  this  prison 
without  even  a  trial,"  she  concluded  bitterly. 

"  Why,  of  course  you  will  have  a  trial.  Both 
you  and  Markley  will  be  tried  according  to 
military  procedure." 


THE  PRISONER  ON  THE  RIVER  QUEEN    177 

"  Oh,  I  could  not  bear  to  be  dragged  before  a 
lot  of  men  and  have  them  sit  in  judgment  on  me. 
Oh,  Gordon,  be  my  friend,  my  real  friend  !  Spare 
me  that  humiliation  which  is  worse  than  death. 
Kill  me  before  that  time  comes ! " 

"  Regina,  do  not  become  excited.  You  are  not 
a  hysterical  woman." 

"  But  you  will  remain  my  friend  through  every 
thing  ?  " 

"I  am  bound  to  stand  by  you,  Regina;  you 
need  not  ask  that  question  again." 

"  Then  if  you  are  my  friend  —  my  true  friend 
—  you  can  never  see  me  suffer  the  humiliation  of 
a  public  trial."  She  looked  into  his  face,  speaking 
slowly.  "  You  will  set  me  free,  Gordon." 

"  Do  you  know  what  you  are  asking  ?  "  he  de 
manded.  "  You  are  asking  me  to  violate  my  oath 
of  duty  in  order  to  save  you  from  the  consequences 
of  your  rashness  and  folly." 

"  No,  no,  Gordon ;  I  did  not  mean  that." 

"  If  I  should  permit  you  to  escape  I  should  be 
suspected  of  being  your  accomplice." 

"  My  accomplice,"  she  repeated  softly  to  her 
self.  Then  laying  her  hand  on  his  arm,  "  I 
understand,  Gordon,  but  you  have  never  quite 
understood  me.  You  have  always  thought  of  me 
as  a  woman  whose  character  had  been  cast  in  a 
strong  mould.  Because  my  spirit  has  been  high 
you  have  always  thought  that  I  was  courageous ; 
but  I  am  not  brave,  Gordon.  You  think  that  I 
am  daring  and  fearless,  and  perhaps  reckless,  be- 


178  THE  CLAYBORNES 

cause  I  have  ventured  to  enter  the  service  in  this 
war,  but  I  fear  many  things,  Gordon.  I  am  afraid 
of  being  brought  to  trial  as  a  spy.  I  am  afraid 
of  being  shot.  In  spite  of  all  you  say,  I  am  still 
afraid." 

Tears  stood  in  her  dark  eyes,  and  she  stretched 
out  her  hand  with  a  gesture  that  appealed  for 
aid. 

"  Control  yourself,  Regina.     Do  not  cry." 

"No,  Gordon,  I  will  not  cry,"  she  answered 
with  bowed  head. 

He  stood  in  silence,  looking  at  her  for  a  few 
moments,  then  spoke  with  suppressed  fervor : 
"  You  need  have  no  fear.  You  shall  not  be  shot. 
You  shall  not  be  brought  to  trial.  You  shall  go 
free." 

She  lifted  her  face,  the  tears  still  standing  wet 
upon  the  lashes,  while  she  endeavored  to  speak  in 
a  calm  voice  of  self-control. 

"  I  cannot  accept  my  life  —  or  my  liberty  at  the 
price  of  yours.  No,  Gordon,  I  have  played  the 
game  of  war  with  men.  I  must  not  meet  the  con 
sequences  like  a  weak  woman." 

"  You  begged  me  to  set  you  free,  and  now  that 
I  offer  you  your  liberty  you  refuse  it.  I  say  you 
shall  go." 

Never  had  she  appeared  more  beautiful  than  at 
this  moment  when,  looking  up  into  his  face,  she 
said  with  a  slight  tremble  of  the  lip,  "  I  am  only  a 
woman,  after  all,  Gordon." 

He  took  the  hand  which  rested  on  his  arm,  say- 


THE  PRISONER  ON  THE  RIVER  QUEEN    179 

ing :  "  You  shall  leave  this  boat  in  freedom. 
Whatever  the  consequences  to  me,  I  am  resolved 
that  you  shall  not  suffer  for  your  rashness." 

"  And  what  will  become  of  you,"  she  inquired, 
"  if  you  let  me  escape  ?  " 

"  Having  made  up  my  mind  that  you  shall  be 
liberated,  I  shall  not  think  of  the  consequences 
until  the  time  comes." 

"  But  I  cannot  help  thinking  of  them,"  she 
cried.  "  Perhaps  they  will  shoot  you." 

"  I  think  not." 

"  They  will,  Gordon,  I  know  they  will,  and  I 
refuse  to  go,  Gordon.  I  absolutely  refuse  my  lib 
erty." 

"  You  cannot  refuse.  I  shall  make  you  accept 
it." 

"  I  refuse  —  I  shall  refuse  unless  "  —  she  hesi 
tated  —  "  unless  you  go  with  me."  Then  with  a 
burst  of  passionate  entreaty  she  continued  :  "  You 
do  not  belong  here,  you  belong  to  us.  Oh,  come 
to  us,  Gordon.  It  is  your  duty.  You  have  an 
opportunity  to  render  your  country  a  great  service. 
Do  not  let  it  go  unheeded.  The  past  will  be  for 
gotten  and  forgiven  "  — 

"  Regina,"  he  cried  sternly,  "  I  command  you  to 
be  silent !  " 

Neither  spoke  for  a  few  moments.  Then  turn 
ing  her  wondrous  eyes  up  at  him  with  a  look  of 
contrition  she  said  humbly :  "  Forgive  me,  Gor 
don  ;  I  see  I  cannot  move  you.  I  see  I  offend 
you,  but  what  I  have  just  said  is  the  truth.  I 


180  THE  CLAYBORNES 

meant  it  for  your  good.  Tell  me  that  you  are  not 
angry  with  me." 

"  I  am  not  angry." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me  ?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  set  you  at  liberty  as  soon  as  I 
can." 

"  And  Markley,  what  becomes  of  him  ? "  she 
inquired. 

"  If  he  is  convicted,  he  will  have  to  swing,  I  sup 
pose,"  Gordon  answered  almost  savagely.  "You 
are  the  only  one  whose  safety  concerns  me.  You 
are  in  trouble  and  I  am  going  to  aid  you,  but  you 
must  make  up  your  mind  to  obey  me." 

"Yes,  Gordon,"  she  replied,  following  him 
meekly. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A   WOMAN   IS    AN   AWKWARD    PEISONEB 

LIEUTENANT  WARE,  having  been  ordered  to 
take  charge  of  the  prisoners,  was  particularly  mind 
ful  of  the  comfort  of  the  woman  captive,  Flora 
Dowd.  He  felt  compassion  for  her  ;  he  felt  sure 
she  could  not  be  guilty  of  the  charge  against  her, 
and  it  seemed  to  him  a  great  hardship  that  she 
should  be  a  prisoner. 

She  agreed  with  him,  and  told  him  many  things 
which  strengthened  his  conviction  that  she  was  a 
much  abused  young  woman.  There  was  a  small 
window  in  her  stateroom  which  looked  out  near 
the  paddle-box.  Regina  Bowie,  taking  advantage 
of  this  loophole,  found  time  and  opportunity  to 
tell  Ware  much  about  herself,  which  interested 
him  and  enlisted  his  sympathy.  Regina  was  quick 
to  respond  to  sympathy,  and  became  more  com 
municative,  but  she  did  not  deem  it  expedient  nor 
wise  to  tell  him  her  real  name,  nor  to  mention  her 
previous  acquaintance  with  Gordon  Clayborne. 

It  was  pleasant  to  excite  the  interest  and  sym 
pathy  of  the  young  lieutenant.  Not  only  was  it 
agreeable  to  have  his  good-will,  but  Regina  had 
long  since  learned  the  value  of  making  friends ; 


182  THE  CLAYBORNES 

so  the  growing  kindliness  on  the  part  of  young 
Ware  was  not  to  be  discouraged,  and  Regina  did 
not  discourage  it. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  third  day  the  River 
Queen  approached  the  landing  at  Milliken's  Bend, 
the  point  of  destination.  Instead  of  the  large 
army  corps  which  Captain  Clayborne  had  seen 
encamped  there  a  week  before,  he  found  only  a 
small  detachment.  The  troops  had  been  marched 
down  the  west  bank  of  the  river;  the  gunboats 
and  transports  had  run  the  batteries  of  the  enemy. 
The  siege  of  Yicksburg  had  begun  in  earnest. 

In  the  hurry  of  departure  no  orders  had  been 
left  for  the  disposal  of  the  supplies  to  be  brought 
by  the  River  Queen.  The  single  road  from  Mil 
liken's  down  to  New  Carthage  and  Hard  Times 
was  already  choked  with  wagon-trains.  To  add  to 
this  confusion  would  incur  the  risk  of  having  the 
supplies  spoiled.  Gordon  debated  the  question 
carefully  in  his  mind,  then  called  the  steamboat 
captain  to  one  side.  „  x 

"  Captain  Wilkins,"  he  said,  "  of  all  the  boats 
which  have  run  the  Vicksburg  batteries  nearly 
every  one  has  got  safely  by,  which  proves  that 
wooden  vessels  can  run  the  batteries." 

"  That 's  what  I  said  two  months  ago  when  the 
Queen  of  the  West  went  through.  If  that  little 
wooden  gunboat  can  run  by,  any  good  river  boat 
ought  to  stand  it." 

"  That 's  what  I  think,"  replied  Gordon,  "  and 
I  propose  to  run  the  batteries  with  this  boat." 


A  WOMAN   IS   AN   AWKWARD   PRISONER     183 

"  It  can't  be  done,  Captain  Clayborne." 

"  Why  not  ?     You  just  said  it  could." 

"  I  said  any  good  boat  ought  to  run  the  batter 
ies,  but  this  boat  has  got  a  weak  boiler.  Even  if 
I  pushed  her  she  could  not  make  over  eight  miles 
an  hour,  and  we  ought  to  run  at  least  twelve  to 
have  any  chance  of  getting  by." 

"  Captain  Wilkins,  we  shall  have  to  try  it,  for 
I  Ve  made  up  my  mind  to  go  through." 

"  Captain  Clayborne,  I  tell  you  the  rebel  guns 
will  knock  this  boat  into  chips  once  it  gets  within 
their  range.  You  be  guided  by  my  advice." 

"  Have  you  ever  run  the  batteries,  Captain 
Wilkins  ?  " 

«  No." 

"  Neither  have  I,  so  we  can  only  make  the  ex 
periment.  I  '11  wager  many  of  those  tugs  with 
their  barges  did  Jot  make  ten  miles  an  hour. 

o 

We  '11  go  on  the  River  Queen  if  she  only  runs 
five." 

"  No,  we  won't,  Captain  Clayborne.  I  'm  per 
fectly  willing  to  run  the  gauntlet  with  a  fast  boat, 
but  I  'm  durned  if  I  'm  going  to  risk  my  old  car 
cass  on  any  such  fool  job  as  that.  I  own  this 
boat,  —  the  Government  only  hires  her,  —  and  I  'm 
not  going  to  let  the  rebels  have  a  chance  to  blow 
the  River  Queen  out  of  the  water." 

"  The  River  Queen  is  in  my  hands  now,  and 
she  goes  where  I  say,"  answered  Gordon.  "  If 
she  gets  damaged,  you  '11  get  your  pay  from  the 
Government." 


184  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"You  can't  take  her  without  the  men  to  run 
her,  and  none  of  my  men  will  be  such  fools  as 
to  put  their  heads  into  the  lion's  mouth,"  said 
Wilkins  doggedly. 

"  Lieutenant  Brainard,"  Gordon  called  out, 
"  summon  every  soldier  on  board  to  the  quarter 
deck." 

The  lieutenant  hesitated,  then  speaking  in  a 
shamefaced  way  said :  "I  will  of  course  obey 
orders,  Captain  Clayborne,  but  I  consider  it  my 
duty  to  add  my  remonstrances  to  those  of  Wilkins. 
I  think  the  attempt  will  be  foolhardy." 

"  Summon  the  men,"  commanded  Clayborne 
peremptorily. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  demanded  Cap 
tain  Wilkins. 

"  Wait  and  see,"  replied  Gordon  shortly. 

"  Captain  Clayborne,  you  can't  coerce  me  or 
my  men  into  putting  our  lives  in  jeopardy.  I  'm 
willing  to  take  any  ordinary  risk.  Give  me  a  boat 
that  '11  run  twelve  or  fifteen  miles  an  hour,  and 
I  '11  put  her  through." 

«  What 's  the  use  of  talking  like  that,  Wilkins  ? 
You  know  there  is  n't  a  good  boat  above  Vicks- 
burg  at  our  disposal.  It 's  either  take  the  River 
Queen  or  leave  her.  I  'm  going  to  take  her. 
Boys,"  Clayborne  continued,  addressing  the  men 
drawn  up  on  the  quarter-deck,  "  the  River  Queen 
is  going  to  run  the  Vicksburg  batteries  to-night. 
Captain  Wilkins  and  his  men  do  not  think  it  a 
safe  undertaking.  As  many  of  you  as  are  famil- 


A  WOMAN  IS  AN  AWKWARD   PRISONER    185 

iar  with  river  navigation  step  forward  from  the 
ranks." 

Ten  men  stepped  promptly  out  of  the  line. 

"  You  men  are  from  Ohio,  brought  up  along  the 
Ohio  River,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  a  number  of  voices. 

"  Who  will  volunteer  to  run  the  engine  ?  " 

Half  a  dozen  men  answered  that  they  would. 

"  Who  feels  able  to  steer  the  boat  ?  " 

"  I  'm  willing  to  try,  Captain,"  drawled  a  lank 
Ohioan  with  a  freckled,  weather-stained  face.  "  I 
took  a  boat  down  to  New  Orleans  once." 

"  You  fully  understand  that  it  will  be  a  difficult 
matter  to  stand  up  there  in  the  pilot-house  as  a 
target  for  the  Confederate  guns,"  said  Clayborne. 

"  I  allow  they  won't  scare  me  if  they  don't  hit 
me,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Very  good,"  continued  Clayborne  ;  "  I  only 
want  to  impress  you  with  the  great  responsibility 
which  will  rest  on  your  shoulders.  Now  will  any 
one  else  be  ready  to  take  a  hand  at  the  wheel  in 
case  of  accident  to  you  ?  " 

"If  you'll  let  me  pick  my  mate,"  said  the 
volunteer  pilot,  "Bob  Perkins  is  as  good  as  any 
man  on  the  river." 

"  Very  good,"  answered  Gordon.  "  Get  to  your 
posts  at  once.  Now,  Captain  Wilkins,  we  '11  put 
you  and  any  of  your  men  who  wish  it  ashore  at 
Milliken's." 

"  No,  by  gosh,  you  won't,"  replied  the  steam 
boat  captain  emphatically.  "  This  is  my  boat  and 


186  THE  CLAYBORNES 

I  '11  stick  to  her.  If  you  're  such  an  all-fired  reck 
less  cuss  as  to  run  her  into  hell's  teeth,  I  'm  going 
to  be  at  the  helm  myself.  I  reckon  there  ain't 
any  of  those  chaps  that  have  navigated  the  Ohio 
who  know  this  Mississippi  better  'n  Dan  Wilkins. 
I  '11  put  you  fellows  through  or  I  '11  go  to  the  bot 
tom  with  you.  Boys,"  he  cried  to  his  boat's  crew, 
"  I  did  n't  hire  you  to  run  rebel  batteries  in  a  tub. 
Any  one  of  you  is  at  liberty  to  get  off  here  at  the 
Bend  ;  but  as  for  me,  all  I  can  say  is  Dan  Wilkins 
ain't  going  to  allow  any  soldiers  to  stump  him  on 
the  river." 

Not  a  man  stirred. 

"  I  guess  we  '11  take  this  trip  as  a  happy  family, 
Captain  Clayborne,"  said  Wilkins. 

Gordon  smiled.  "  Very  well,  Captain  Wilkins, 
we  will  leave  the  navigation  of  the  boat  to  you. 
If  you  want  any  assistance  from  any  of  my  men, 
call  upon  me." 

"  I  '11  want  your  men  when  mine  are  shot  out  of 
their  places,  but  if  we  go,  we  '11  all  go  pretty 
much  together.  Jim  Coles,  carry  some  of  those 
barrels  of  pork  down  into  the  engine-room  for 
fuel.  Whatever  we  do,  Captain  Clayborne,  we  've 
got  to  make  some  sort  of  speed ;  and  if  we  do  go 
to  the  bottom,  it  may  not  be  the  rebel  guns  that 
send  us  there,  for  the  old  Queen  is  liable  to  blow 
out  her  own  boiler." 

"  We  shall  have  to  take  that  risk,  Captain  Wil 
kins,  but  you  need  not  increase  speed  until  nightfall, 
for  we  don't  want  to  get  opposite  the  batteries 


A  WOMAN  IS   AN   AWKWARD   PRISONER    187 

before  midnight,  and  if  we  get  through  we  '11  be  at 
Hard  Times  by  daylight." 

"  If  we  don't  get  through  we  '11  be  in  '  hard 
times'  many  hours  before  daylight,  and  I  calcu 
late  some  of  us  will  stay  there,  too  ;  "  and  Captain 
Wilkins  went  down  into  the  engine-room  to  oil  and 
polish  up  the  old  machinery.  Here,  as  he  worked 
away  cheerfully,  he  could  be  heard  whistling  to 
himself  the  rather  suggestive  air,  "  Down  among 
the  Dead  Men." 

At  Milliken's  Bend  Captain  Clayborne  debarked 
all  of  the  horses,  and  unloaded  enough  of  the 
supplies  to  perceptibly  lighten  the  boat,  and  then 
waited  for  darkness. 

As  evening  descended  the  River  Queen  began 
to  get  up  steam  for  that  supreme  test  of  her 
powers,  —  a  flying  trip  past  the  batteries  of  Vicks- 
burg,  which  lay  yawning  but  not  sleeping  twenty- 
five  miles  below.  This  was  to  be  no  pleasure  trip 
for  the  old  craft,  although  Captain  Wilkins  had 
put  her  in  her  finest  trim.  He  had  oiled  her 
engines  and  polished  the  brasses  until  they  shone 
like  new.  He  had  rolled  barrels  of  pork  into  the 
furnace-room,  and  protected  "  her  vitals "  with 
bales  of  cotton.  He  was  going  to  put  her  through 
or  "  bust." 

Clayborne  stood  in  the  stern  of  the  vessel  be 
hind  a  deck-house,  looking  down  into  the  dark 
waters  of  the  Mississippi.  Regina  Bowie,  who 
availed  freely  of  the  liberty  of  the  deck  which  had 
been  granted  her,  came  to  his  side. 


188  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  Gordon,"  she  whispered,  "  what  are  you  going 
to  do?" 

"  I  am  going  to  run  the  batteries." 

"  You  will  never  be  able  to  do  it  with  this 
craft." 

"  Then  we  shall  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Con 
federates  or  go  to  the  bottom ;  but  other  vessels 
have  got  safely  through  and  I  think  we  shall." 
He  looked  at  the  sky  as  he  spoke.  The  night  was 
settling  dark.  The  heavens  were  overcast  and 
black,  save  where  an  occasional  rift  in  the  clouds 
disclosed  the  light  of  a  vagrant  star. 

"  In  this  slow  decrepit  boat  all  the  chances  are 
against  you,  Gordon,"  Regina  repeated  quietly. 
"  In  your  heart  you  know  that  I  speak  the  truth. 
It  is  only  your  Clayborne  pride  which  prevents 
your  acknowledging  it.  It  is  only  your  Clayborne 
pride  which  prevents  your  leaving  this  vessel  at 
the  Bend.  Rather  than  have  it  hinted  that  you 
were  afraid  to  follow  where  others  have  gone,  you 
risk  your  life,  the  lives  of  your  men ;  you  place  in 
jeopardy  the  lives  of  your  prisoners." 

"  That  the  venture  is  dangerous  I  know,"  re 
plied  Gordon,  "  but  it  is  not  the  forlorn  hope  you 
picture  it,  and  I  have  thought  of  my  prisoners.  I 
am  going  to  put  you  ashore  here  at  the  Bend ;  as 
for  Markley,  he  is  a  man  ;  he  must  take  the  risk 
with  the  other  men." 

"  You  were  always  chivalrous,  Gordon ;  and  so 
you  would  set  me  free  because  I  am  a  woman." 

He  took  a  few  rapid  paces  up  and  down  the 


A  WOMAN  IS  AN  AWKWARD  PRISONER    189 

deck  before  he  answered  her,  then,  speaking 
quickly,  "  Before  we  start  it  will  be  pitch  dark.  I 
shall  then  put  you  on  shore.  You  shall  have  your 
liberty  because  you  are  a  woman." 

She  looked  into  his  face  searchingly.  She  liked 
the  man's  generosity.  She  admired  his  strength. 
She  felt  her  own  power  over  him,  and  it  thrilled 
her.  Dearer  than  the  thought  of  life  or  liberty 
was  the  desire  to  bring  him  back  with  her. 

"  And  I  refuse  because  I  am  a  woman,"  she 
answered. 

"  You  cannot  refuse,  for  I  shall  make  you.go," 
he  replied  with  equal  determination. 

"  You  will  make  me  go !  "  she  cried  with  a  thrill 
of  emotion  in  her  voice  ;  then  laying  her  hand 
upon  his  arm,  she  spoke  earnestly.  "  If  you  per 
sist  in  your  rashness  you  will  run  this  boat  to  cer 
tain  destruction.  Be  guided  by  reason,  Gordon. 
Allow  Markley  to  go  free  also ;  do  not  drag  that 
poor  fellow  into  a  danger  he  has  no  choice  of 
avoiding." 

"  I  have  told  you  he  must  take  his  chances  with 
the  rest  of  us." 

"  Then  I  shall  not  go  without  him." 

"  You  will  have  to  go,  Regina." 

"  Do  you  think  so  poorly  of  me  as  to  suppose  I 
would  desert  a  comrade  ?  As  much  as  I  fear  it,  I 
would  rather  share  the  fate  which  awaits  him." 

They  had  been  speaking  in  low  tones,  but  she 
stamped  her  heel  upon  the  deck  in  emphasis. 
Gordon  looked  at  her  with  admiration. 


190  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  Let  us  all  go,  Gordon,"  she  whispered  implor 
ingly.  "  Do  not  you  remain  to  pay  the  penalty  for 
having  been  magnanimous.  Come  with  us.  Do 
not  fear;  you  shall  not  be  a  prisoner.  A  few 
words  from  me,  and  all  will  be  set  right.  It 
seems  to  me  as  if  I  had  been  ordained  to  bring 
you  back  to  the  right  path.  The  moment  has 
now  come.  There  is  a  small  boat  here  in  the 
stern.  You  can  release  Markley  in  a  moment.  A 
few  strokes  of  the  oar  "  — 

Gordon  was  silent. 

"  Does  it  seem  such  a  hard  thing  for  you  to  do  ? 
Will  you  not  follow  me  now  if  I  show  the  way  ?  " 

She  took  a  step  forward.  Her  foot  tripped 
upon  a  coil  of  rope  ;  she  would  have  fallen  to  the 
deck  had  not  Gordon  caught  her  in  his  arms.  He 
supported  her  thus  for  an  instant. 

"  I  need  you  more  than  ever,  Gordon.  I  cannot 
give  you  up,"  she  said. 

Her  head  rested  on  his  shoulder,  and  thus  he 
held  her  for  a  moment  while  she  whispered  in  that 
low  sweet  tone  to  which  he  had  never  listened 
without  being  deeply  stirred,  "  What  men  call 
honor  is  often  an  empty  title,  Gordon.  If  our 
positions  were  reversed  —  if  you  were  in  need  of 
my  help,  I  would  make  a  great  sacrifice  for  your 
sake  ;  that  is  the  woman's  way." 

With  pulse  beating  high  and  his  warm  blood 
surging  through  his  veins,  Gordon  held  the  woman 
at  arm's  length  and  looked  searchingly  into  her 
face.  There  was  a  tender  light  in  her  dark  eyes, 


A  WOMAN   IS  AN  AWKWARD  PRISONER    191 

her  pretty  mouth  wore  an  appealing  expression. 
What  man  could  have  looked  into  that  fascinating 
face  and  not  been  deeply  moved?  As  the  man 
looked  at  her,  endeavoring  to  read  her  thoughts, 
his  whole  nature  stirred  by  the  magic  of  her 
wonderful  influence,  the  sharp  tones  of  Captain 
Wilkins's  voice  giving  the  final  orders  to  cast  off, 
came  to  him  from  the  bridge.  "  Throw  off  that 
rope,  Jack.  You  may  never  cast  another.  A  few 
hours  more  and  we  '11  be  where  the  shots  are  sing 
ing,"  called  Wilkins  cheerily.  The  cool  voice  of 
the  river  captain  steadied  Gordon's  nerve.  The 
soldier's  blood  stirred  within  him. 

"  There  is  not  a  moment  to  lose,  Gordon,"  said 
Regina  in  an  agitated  whisper.  "  Quick !  get 
Markley  !  I  fear  we  are  already  too  late  !  " 

The  River  Queen  had  begun  to  move. 

Clayborne  roused  himself  to  action. 

"  It  is  too  late  now,  Gordon.  Already  we  have 
left  the  shore." 

In  the  stern  of  the  River  Queen  was  a  small 
skiff.  Clayborne  lowered  it  quickly  to  the  water, 
then  turned,  and  catching  the  woman  in  his  arms 
lifted  her  from  her  feet. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me  ?  "  she 
asked,  with  an  accent  of  apprehension. 

"  Put  you  in  the  skiff,"  and  before  she  could 
speak  he  had  swung  her  over  the  rail  and  she  was 
in  the  boat. 

"  Markley  "  —  she  panted,  "  let  him  out  —  he 
can  swim  for  it  —  and  you  shall  come  too  —  I  will 


192  THE  CLAYBORNES 

pick  you  both  up,"  she  said  with  suppressed  excite 
ment,  taking  up  the  oars. 

"  For  God's  sake,  Regina,  row  for  the  shore 
quickly,"  he  whispered  hoarsely,  leaning  over  the 
rail.  He  looked  down  into  the  brilliant  eyes, 
and  the  face  encircled  by  dark  locks  turned  up 
towards  him ;  then  sprang  quickly  back  and  hur 
ried  away. 

The  woman  sat  for  a  moment  with  the  oars  at 
rest.  The  River  Queen,  with  slowly  revolving 
paddle  was  turning  out  into  the  stream.  With  a 
few  sharp  strokes  Regina  brought  the  skiff  up 
under  the  stern,  fastened  it  by  the  painter,  and 
rose  to  her  feet. 

The  steamboat  had  increased  its  speed,  the  little 
craft  in  the  rear  danced  lightly  along  at  the  risk 
of  throwing  Regina  into  the  water,  but  the  woman 
ignored  the  danger.  There  was  a  baffled  expres 
sion  in  her  eyes,  but  they  did  not  show  the  resigna 
tion  of  defeat.  A  sudden  lurch  of  the  skiff  threw 
her  to  her  knees.  She  grasped  the  gunwale  and 
steadied  herself.  Leaning  forward,  she  pulled  on 
the  painter  until  the  little  boat  was  close  up  under 
the  stern  of  the  larger  craft.  The  spray  dashed  into 
her  face,  blinding  her.  She  heeded  it  not.  Brush 
ing  the  water  from  her  eyes  and  shaking  it  from 
her  hair,  she  sprang  in  on  the  lower  deck,  and  dis 
appeared  into  the  obscurity  of  the  vessel. 

Gordon  Clayborne,  in  starting  for  the  compan- 
ionway,  had  run  squarely  against  a  man  who  came 
suddenly  out. 


A  WOMAN  IS  AN  AWKWARD  PRISONER    193 

"  Brainard,"  he  demanded,  as  soon  as  he  recog 
nized  the  lieutenant,  "  are  all  the  men  at  their  as 
signed  posts  ?  " 

Brainard  scrutinized  his  face  closely  before 
replying  slowly :  "  The  men  are  all  at  their  as 
signed  posts." 

"  Then  why  are  you  not  at  yours  ?  " 

"  I  was  just  going  there,  sir." 

"  See  that  the  men  stationed  below  the  water- 
line  are  supplied  with  damp  cotton  to  stop  up  as 
much  as  possible  any  shot-holes  made  by  the  ene 
my's  fire." 

"  Yes,  sir,  "  and  the  lieutenant  turned  slowly 
away,  leaving  Clayborne  to  make  his  way  towards 
the  wheelhouse. 

The  engineer  had  begun  to  stoke  the  fires. 
Sparks  flew  from  the  smokestacks,  dancing  away 
on  the  wind,  to  fall  hissing  into  the  swiftly  flow 
ing  water.  Gordon  took  up  his  place  by  Captain 
Wilkins's  side,  and  straining  his  eyes  tried  to  dis 
tinguish  the  outlines  of  the  shore  as  the  boat 
wo  and  its  way  down  the  river. 

Francis  Ware  stood  before  the  cabin  in  which 
Markley  the  spy  was  locked.  A  look  of  great  dis 
satisfaction  was  on  the  young  man's  brow.  His 
mind  was  preoccupied.  All  his  thoughts  for  the 
last  few  days  had  been  upon  the  same  subject, 
Flora  Dowd.  He  had  seen  how  this  captivating 
creature  had  ingratiated  herself  into  the  good 
graces  of  his  superior  officer.  He  did  not  wonder 


194  THE  CLAYBORNES 

at  this,  but  he  was  jealous.  He  felt  positive  that 
she  was  wrongfully  accused.  He  did  not  blame 
Captain  Clayborne  for  allowing  her  such  liberty  on 
the  boat,  but  he  was  jealous.  Flora  had  smiled  on 
Francis  Ware.  She  had  been  confidential.  She 
had  awakened  his  deep  sympathy  for  her.  He  was 
in  love  with  her.  He  could  no  longer  conceal  the 
fact  from  himself.  He  thought  about  her  night 
and  day.  Her  face  was  continually  before  him. 
So  when  a  lithe  figure  flashed  behind  a  pile  of  hay- 
bales,  his  quick  eye  knew  it  was  she.  The  next 
instant  his  hand  was  upon  her  arm  and  he  was 
looking  into  her  face. 

"Mr.  Ware,  you  hurt  me." 

His  hand  dropped.  "  I  would  not  hurt  you  for 
the  world.  Why  are  you  hiding  here  ?  I  know 
Clayborne  has  given  you  the  liberty  to  stay  on 
deck,  but  neither  there  or  here  are  safe  places 
for  you  now.  There  will  be  no  safety  for  you. 
He  is  a  brute  to  allow  you  to  incur  the  danger 
we  are  about  to  run."  He  spoke  with  great  feel 
ing. 

Regina  looked  into  his  eyes.  She  felt  that  she 
must  play  high. 

"  Oh,  if  I  only  had  some  one  in  whom  I  could 
trust,"  she  sighed. 

"  Trust  me.  Whenever  I  am  near  you  my  heart 
leaps  within  me.  I  would  do  anything  in  the  world 
for  you." 

"  Would  you,  surely  —  surely  ?  " 

"  I  swear  it." 


A  WOMAN  IS  AN  AWKWARD  PRISONER    195 

"  Then  give  me  the  key  to  the  cabin  where 
Markley  is." 

"  I  cannot.     I  have  not  got  it." 

She  looked  at  him  closely  and  saw  that  he  spoke 
the  truth. 

"Who  has  it?" 

"  Captain  Clayborne." 

"  Then  get  it." 

"  Get  it  from  him  and  give  it  to  you  ?  "  repeated 
Ware. 

In  the  darkness  Regina  Bowie  could  not  see  the 
look  of  horror  in  his  eyes,  but  her  alert  ear  caught 
the  tremble  in  his  voice. 

"  You  want  me  to  trust  you,  do  you  not  ?  "  she 
asked  quickly. 

«  Yes." 

"  Then  draw  up  a  skiff  which  is  trailing  from 
the  stern,  and  stow  it  where  it  will  not  be  seen.  I 
shall  need  it  later." 

W  ith  feverish  haste  he  obeyed  her.  "  You  are 
going  to  escape,"  he  whispered.  "  I  cannot  bear 
to  think  of  the  danger  you  incur.  I  must  aid  you." 

"  Have  you  thought  of  the  risk  you  yourself 
will  have  to  run  ?  "  she  breathed  in  his  ear. 

"  I  can  think  of  nothing  but  you." 

"  Then  you  shall  go  with  me.  Get  me  the  key 
to  the  cabin  where  Markley  is  confined,  and  bring 
it  to  me  here,  then  keep  near  this  skiff.  For  the 
Lord's  sake,  do  not  let  any  one  take  it  away  from 
here." 

Ware  caught  her  in  his  arms.     "  Woman,  wo- 


196  THE  CLAYBORNES 

man,  ask  what  you  will  of  me,  and  you  shall  have 
it,"  he  whispered  ardently.  "  You  are  my  very 
soul !  I  can  deny  you  nothing." 

"  Then  get  me  the  key,"  she  whispered  softly. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  will." 

"  Quickly,  then.  Now  let  me  go  for  the  present," 
she  exclaimed,  and  concealed  herself  among  the 
bales. 

The  River  Queen  steadily  steered  her  course 
down  the  Mississippi.  A  tongue  of  flame  shot  out 
from  the  Vicksburg  shore,  followed  by  a  rumbling 
roar.  The  River  Queen  had  been  discovered. 
Puff  !  puff  !  forward  she  went. 

Up  to  the  present  moment  the  steamer  had  been 
sighted  only  by  some  of  the  lower  batteries,  shoot 
ing  across  a  long  neck  of  land ;  but  as  she  rounded 
the  point  she  came  at  once  within  full  range  of  the 
batteries  all  along  the  line.  From  every  side  sheets 
of  flame  burst  forth  as  the  great  guns  hurled  their 
ten-inch  shot  and  shell  at  the  River  Queen. 
Wilkins  steered  his  boat  within  three  hundred 
yards  of  the  Vicksburg  shore,  and  the  guns  on  the 
high  bluffs  shot  over  his  head.  The  noise  was 
deafening,  although  few  shots  had  struck  the  de 
voted  little  steamer  as  yet.  She  answered  bravely 
with  her  panting,  Puff !  puff !  puff !  sending  out 
great  volumes  of  black  smoke  as  the  engineer  fed 
his  fire  with  the  barrels  of  pork. 

The  scene  burst  forth  into  lurid  light  as  the 
Confederates  set  fire  to  some  old  houses.  Then 
they  got  the  range.  Riddled  by  shot  was  the 


A   WOMAN   IS  AN   AWKWARD   PRISONER    197 

Eiver  Queen,  —  punctured  above  and  below  the 
water-line  ;  but  the  bales  of  cotton  and  hay  pro 
tected  her  vital  parts,  and  puffing  quicker  and 
quicker,  gasping,  wheezing,  leaking,  groaning,  the 
old  boat  sped  down  the  river  at  ten  miles  an  hour. 
A  shot  crashed  through  the  pilot-house,  but  Cap 
tain  Wilkins  held  his  course. 

"  In  fifteen  minutes,"  said  Clayborne  to  Lieu 
tenant  Brainard,  as  they  stood  on  the  lower  deck 
among  the  men,  "we  shall  get  out  of  range  of 
those  guns.  I  thought  we  could  run  those  bat 
teries  even  in  the  River  Queen."  Brainard  gave 
Clayborne  a  quick  comprehensive  glance.  There 
was  a  strange  look  on  his  face  in  which  suspi 
cion,  admiration,  and  distrust  all  were  mingled. 
Clayborne  did  not  see  the  look,  for  even  as  he 
spoke  a  tongue  of  flame  shot  out  from  some  bales 
of  hay  amidships.  "  We  have  caught  fire  !  "  cried 
Clayborne.  "  Brainard,  send  some  men  here ! 
Get  buckets,  boys !  Don't  let  the  fire  spread ! 
Into  the  river  with  some  of  those  bales!  Come, 
pass  the  buckets  quicker ! "  he  shouted.  A  double 
line  was  formed,  and  water  thrown  on  the  hissing 
flames.  Men  with  axes  chopped  at  burning  tim 
bers,  straining  every  nerve  to  prevent  the  flames 
from  spreading  through  the  boat,  but  still  the 
conflagration  increased  rapidly. 

When  the  fire  and  confusion  were  at  their  height, 
with  every  man  engaged  in  the  desperate  fight 
against  the  flames,  an  agile  form  slid  out  from 
behind  a  pile  of  bales  which  were  as  yet  untouched 


198  THE  CLAYBORNES 

by  the  fire.  It  was  Regina  Bowie,  and  with  excited 
but  nimble  fingers  she  unlocked  a  door. 

"  It  is  I,  Markley,"  she  cried,  bursting  into  the 
room.  Markley,  whose  usually  red  face  was  pale 
to  the  lips,  recovered  his  self-possession  at  the 
sight  of  her.  "  Thank  God ! "  he  cried,  "  I 
feared  I  was  to  be  left  to  roast  like  a  stalled  ox." 

"  We  '11  have  to  get  out  of  here,"  she  cried. 
"  This  part  of  the  boat  will  be  too  hot  to  hold  us 
in  a  few  moments." 

"  I  'm  ready." 

"  In  the  stern  of  this  boat  is  a  skiff.  We  must 
get  off  in  her  right  smart,  Markley.  These  Yankees 
will  have  enough  to  attend  to  in  putting  out  the 
fire  I  started,  but  if  they  catch  me  I  reckon  they  '11 
cook  my  goose." 

While  she  spoke  she  hurriedly  led  the  way  to 
the  stern,  dodging  behind  and  clambering  over 
boxes  of  provisions  and  bales  of  hay  with  the  lithe- 
ness  of  a  panther. 

"  Here  is  the  skiff  !  "  cried  Markley. 

"  Launch  it  quicker  than  lightning !  "  said  Re- 
gina.  "  We  've  not  a  second  to  spare." 

Markley  bent  to  the  task.  Out  of  the  smoke 
rushed  Francis  Ware.  Markley,  with  the  skiff  in 
the  water,  turned  around  for  Regina.  He  saw 
Ware,  and  sprang  at  him.  Unmindful  of  Regi- 
na's  commanding  voice,  Markley  grappled  with 
the  young  lieutenant.  The  struggle  was  fierce  and 
short.  The  younger  man  fought  valiantly,  but  he 
had  been  taken  by  surprise,  and  he  was  greatly 


A  WOMAN   IS  AN  AWKWARD   PRISONER    199 

overmatched.  Markley  lifted  him  up  in  his  arms 
and  threw  him  bodily  into  the  water. 

"  Now,  Regina,  into  the  boat  with  you !  "  cried 
Markley. 

She  obeyed  with  a  spring,  and  Markley  at  her 
side  cast  off  the  painter  and  took  up  the  oars. 

"  Reach  a  hand  to  the  young  fellow ;  he  's  hurt," 
said  Regina  quietly. 

"  Let  the  boy  drown,"  replied  Markley ;  "  we  've 
no  time  for  philanthropy"- — 

"  Do  as  I  say,  Markley !  "  she  cried  with  that 
peremptory  tone  of  command  which  admitted  of  no 
reply.  Without  further  protest  Frank  Ware  was 
hauled  into  the  boat. 

"  Now  row  for  the  east  shore,  Markley,"  Regina 
commanded  further. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE   RIVER   QUEEN'S    BOILER 

ALTHOUGH  the  River  Queen  was  burning  fiercely, 
she  still  obeyed  the  helm.  A  few  minutes  more 
and  she  might  get  past  the  batteries.  If  the 
fire  could  be  controlled  she  might  still  get  down 
the  river  in  safety.  Gordon  Clayborne  knew 
that  the  steamer  had  been  set  on  fire  by  some 
treacherous  hand.  His  heart  grew  sick  at  the 
thought  that  the  adventure,  which  had  come  so 
near  success,  might  end  in  disastrous  failure. 
But  he  fought  misfortune  with  all  the  stubbornness 
of  his  unyielding  disposition,  and  inspired  by  his 
example  his  men  fought  the  flames  with  desperate 
energy.  They  seemed  to  hold  the  conflagration 
in  check  for  a  few  moments.  The  fate  of  the 
River  Queen  swung  in  the  balance. 

A  sharp,  discordant  yell  sounded  above  the  roar 
of  the  flames.  Clayborne  knew  that  cry  full  well. 
He  sprang  up  the  companionway  to  the  deck.  A 
large  yawl  had  put  off  from  the  Vicksburg  shore, 
and  aided  by  the  current  was  keeping  up  with  the 
steamer.  There  were  a  score  of  armed  men  in  the 
boat,  and  a  second  time  the  wild  rebel  yell  rang 
out  over  the  water. 


THE  RIVER  QUEEN'S  BOILER  201 

"  Yanks  ahoy !  "  called  out  a  gruff  voice.  "  Your 
jig  is  up !  Run  your  boat  ashore  and  surrender !  " 

Clayborne  stepped  into  the  shadow  of  the  pilot 
house.  "  Does  she  still  obey  her  helm  ?  "  he  in 
quired  of  the  man  at  the  wheel.  Captain  Wilkins 
nodded. 

"  Keep  her  headed  down  the  river.  If  that  yawl 
comes  too  near,  swing  into  it." 

"  Run  your  boat  for  the  shore,  or  we  '11  give  you 
a  volley ! "  cried  the  same  voice.  Clayborne  saw  a 
pivot  gun  swing  round  in  the  bow  of  the  yawl. 

"  Keep  her  steady,  Captain  Wilkins.  We  've  got 
the  fire  under  control  a  little ;  we  may  possibly  hold 
our  own." 

"  Shoot  the  man  at  the  wheel !  Aim  at  the  pilot 
house  with  the  bow-chaser,"  came  from  the  yawl. 

"Port  your  helm  quickly,  Captain,  and  spoil 
their  aim ! "  cried  Clayborne.  A  volley  of  musketry 
rattled  about  the  pilot-house.  The  shot  from  the 
howitzer  struck  at  Gordon's  side,  covering  him  with 
splinters.  One  ragged  fragment  hit  his  forehead. 
He  reeled  down  to  the  rail.  Caught  at  it  to  steady 
himself.  His  nerveless  fingers  relaxed,  and  he 
pitched  heavily  forward  into  the  river. 

Wilkins  uttered  a  sharp,  quick  oath  as  his 
hand  fell  helpless  from  the  helm ;  the  wheel  flew 
about,  and  the  River  Queen  fell  off  toward  the 
west  shore. 

Again  came  the  fierce  rebel  yell.  Then  a  voice 
sounded  clear  and  distinct,  "  Now,  you  Yanks,  will 
you  surrender  ?  " 


202  THE  CLAYBORNES 

Captain  Wilkins  pulled  himself  together.  Wrap 
ping  a  bandanna  handkerchief  tightly  around  his 
right  hand,  he  grasped  the  swaying  wheel  with 
his  left  and  brought  the  River  Queen  up  to  her 
course.  "  Surrender  hell !  "  he  shouted.  "  You 
come  and  get  us  if  you  want  us !  I  reckon  you  '11 
get  your  whiskers  singed !  " 

Lieutenant  Brainard,  holding  the  flames  in  check 
below  the  deck,  heard  the  volley  of  musketry  above. 
He  heard  the  rebel  yell,  followed  by  the  call  to 
surrender.  He  could  not  restrain  himself  longer. 
With  an  oath  he,  too,  rushed  for  the  deck.  The 
men  in  the  yawl  were  reloading  for  another  volley. 
Wilkins  signaled  to  the  engineer  for  greater  speed. 
Brainard  saw  the  yawl  with  its  howitzer  in  the  bow 
trained  on  the  River  Queen.  He  saw  twenty  mus 
kets  aimed.  He  looked  quickly  around  for  Clay- 
borne,  and  sprang  into  the  pilot-house. 

"  Where  is  that  scoundrel  ?  "  he  cried. 

There  was  a  roar  and  a  crash  louder  than  any 
volley  of  musketry.  The  steamer's  boiler  had  ex 
ploded,  and  the  River  Queen  drifted  down  the 
stream  a  hopeless  and  sinking  wreck. 

The  rush  of  cold  water  had  brought  Gordon 
Clayborne  back  to  consciousness.  Obeying  the 
natural  instinct  of  man,  he  struck  out  to  swim  for 
the  vessel,  holding  his  chin  above  water.  He 
saw  the  River  Queen  a  hundred  yards  down  the 
river.  Then  came  a  terrific  roar.  A  sheet  of 
flame  shot  upward.  The  river  seemed  to  writhe, 
and  the  air  was  thick  with  falling,  blazing  meteors. 


THE   RIVER   QUEEN'S   BOILER  203 

Gordon  dove  straight  toward  the  river-bed ;  when 
he  rose  to  the  surface  he  warded  off  with  one 
hand  the  floating  debris  which  surrounded  him. 
Pieces  of  charred  lumber,  boxes  of  provisions,  bales 
of  hay  littered  the  stream,  while  a  few  hundred 
yards  distant  the  River  Queen  had  grounded  on 
the  western  shore,  and  was  now  burning  to  the 
water's  edge.  Further  resistance  was  useless.  The 
men  thought  only  of  escape.  All  who  had  not 
been  thrown  into  the  water  by  the  explosion  now 
jumped  to  escape  the  fire.  Many  of  them  were 
picked  up  by  the  Confederates,  and  of  those  who 
succeeded  in  reaching  the  land  the  majority  fell 
into  the  hands  of  guerrillas  lying  concealed  in  the 
brush. 

Clayborne  resolved,  if  possible,  to  float  with  the 
current  down  the  river,  and  land  in  the  protection 
of  the  Union  lines.  He  felt  his  strength  giving 
out,  and  casting  about  for  some  support,  drew  him 
self  upon  a  bale  of  hay.  Here  he  lay  for  a  mo 
ment,  with  his  stomach  close  to  the  hay  while  he 
looked  up  and  down  the  river.  Above  him  the  bat 
teries  had  almost  ceased  firing,  although  an  occa 
sional  shot  came  swishing  over  the  water.  One  of 
these  random  missiles  struck  so  near  as  to  deluge 
him  with  the  spray,  while  the  concussion  overturned 
his  craft,  spilling  him  again  into  the  river.  As  he 
came  to  the  surface,  he  heard  a  faint  cry,  and  his 
hand  struck  against  the  face  of  a  man  who  was 
floating  past  him.  Clayborne  grasped  the  man 
with  one  hand,  while  he  steadied  his  raft  with  the 


204  THE  CLAYBORNES 

other.  Drawing  himself  up  once  more,  he  suc 
ceeded  after  great  efforts  in  pulling  the  man  up 
after  him. 

It  was  Captain  Wilkins,  wounded  and  weak  from 
loss  of  blood. 

Wilkins  tried  to  speak,  and  Clayborne  placed 
his  ear  near  the  lips  of  the  wounded  man. 

"The  boiler  busted  after  all,"  murmured  the 
captain  feebly. 

Clayborne  steadied  his  little  craft  with  the  great 
est  care,  for  he  felt  he  lacked  the  strength  to  draw 
Wilkins  up,  if  it  should  again  capsize.  Then  he 
noticed  that  under  the  additional  weight  the  hay, 
now  saturated  with  water,  began  to  settle  slowly. 
He  took  off  his  boots,  coat,  and  waistcoat. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do,  partner  ?  "  asked 
Wilkins,  who  had  been  watching  him  with  interest. 

"  This  hay  is  fast  losing  its  buoyancy,  Wilkins. 
I  am  preparing  for  emergencies." 

"  That  last  volley  those  cusses  fired  prepared  me 
all  right,"  replied  the  captain  grimly. 

Clayborne  slid  carefully  into  the  water. 

"  What  yer  about  now  ?  "  inquired  Captain  Wil 
kins,  raising  himself  upon  one  elbow. 

"  This  craft  was  not  designed  for  two,  Wilkins, 
though  it  ought  to  carry  you  alone  if  you  don't 
kick  about  much.  As  for  me,  I  '11  swim  for  shore," 
and  Gordon  Clayborne  gave  the  bale  a  gentle 
shove  with  his  feet ;  the  movement  sending  his 
own  body  a  few  yards  in  the  opposite  direction. 
For  a  few  moments  he  allowed  himself  to  float  with 


THE  RIVER  QUEEN'S  BOILER  205 

the  current,  while  he  took  his  bearings.  It  was 
growing  darker  on  the  river  as  the  fire  burned 
lower  and  lower  on  the  wreck  of  the  River 
Queen,  but  a  faint  glow  over  the  Vicksburg  bluffs 
showed  the  approach  of  dawn.  Gordon  struck  out 
toward  the  western  bank.  If  he  could  reach  it  he 
intended  to  lie  concealed  in  the  woods  all  day,  and 
make  his  way  to  the  Union  forces  down  the  river 
by  night.  He  had  not  swum  a  dozen  strokes  when 
the  outlines  of  a  rowboat  became  visible  in  the  dim 
morning  light.  Clayborne  stopped  swimming  and 
trod  water  quietly,  trusting  that  the  occupants  of 
the  boat  would  pass  him  by  unnoticed.  But  a 
lynx-eyed  fellow  had  marked  the  ripple  on  the 
water,  and  the  boat  bore  down  upon  him  until  an 
oar  was  suspended  over  his  head. 

"  Do  you  surrender  ?  "  inquired  a  voice. 

"  I  do,"  was  the  answer,  and  Gordon  Clayborne 
was  hauled  into  a  dory. 

In  the  boat  were  three  men.  "  We  've  fished 
up  one  Yank,  anyhow,"  said  one. 

"  Hi !  there  is  another  !  "  called  out  one  of  his 
companions.  "  Row  over  to  that  bale  of  hay 
yonder !  " 

A  few  strokes  brought  them  alongside  of  Captain 
Wilkins. 

"  Well,  they  got  you  in  quick  time,"  was  his 
comment,  "  but  I  'm  so  chock  full  of  lead  I  'm 
liable  to  sink  the  boat  if  they  take  me  in." 

"  He  is  so  bad  hurt  it  ain't  much  use  to  carry 
him  in,"  remarked  one  of  the  Confederates.  "  It 


206  THE  CLAYBORNES 

will  only  mean  one  more  man  for  the  hospital.  We 
might  as  well  let  him  alone." 

"  Hold  on  there  !  "  exclaimed  another,  "  the 
man  ain't  no  use,  I  '11  allow,  but  there  's  a  right 
smart-looking  coat  and  a  better  pair  of  boots  than 
I  hev  seen  in  a  year.  Better  git  them  before  you 
shove  off." 

"  'Pears  like  we  all  three  come  in  on  this  deal," 
and  the  man  gave  a  waistcoat  to  one  companion,  a 
pair  of  boots  to  the  other,  keeping  the  coat  for 
himself. 

"  Those  articles  are  all  mine,"  said  Gordon. 

"  I  reckon  finding 's  keepings  just  at  present, 
sonny,"  was  the  cool  rejoinder.  "I  seen  you 
swimming  away  and  making  towards  shore  like  a 
good  one.  Just  because  you  claim  these  things  as 
yourn  don't  make  'em  so.  Row  up  under  the 
lower  batteries,  Joe,  and  we  '11  take  our  prisoners 
ashore." 

Clayborne  had  no  intention  to  appear  before  the 
enemy  at  Vicksburg  in  any  more  of  an  undress 
uniform  than  he  could  help,  so  he  said  quietly :  — 

"  I  was  the  commander  of  that  expedition,  and 
I  am  now  a  prisoner  of  war.  That  is  my  clothing, 
but  I  am  willing  to  pay  you  for  restoring  it  to  me," 
and  he  took  a  damp  United  States  note  from  his 
trousers'  pocket. 

The  greenback  proved  a  persuasive  argument, 
and  the  clothing  was  delivered  with  the  remark : 

"  I  calculate  it 's  yourn,  if  you  're  willing  to  pay 
for  it." 


THE  RIVER  QUEEN'S  BOILER  207 

Captain  Clayborne  quietly  pulled  on  his  boots 
and  put  on  his  coat,  and  then,  without  further  re 
sistance  or  remonstrance,  was  taken  to  the  city  a 
prisoner  of  war,  where  he  found  a  number  of  sur 
vivors  of  the  wreck,  prisoners  like  himself.  Heavy 
at  heart,  Clayborne  looked  about  him  to  see  who 
was  missing.  Less  than  half  of  his  own  men 
were  there,  and  only  two  of  the  steamboat  crew. 
Brainard,  Ware,  one  of  the  sergeants,  and  over 
twoscore  men  were  not  accounted  for.  In  his 
soul  Gordon  prayed  that  they  had  reached  the 
land  and  thence  had  made  their  escape,  but  he 
knew  the  difficulties  they  would  encounter,  and  he 
greatly  feared  that  many  of  them  were  either  killed 
or  captured. 

Being  the  commanding  officer,  he  was  soon 
separated  from  his  men  and  confined  by  himself. 
The  place  of  his  imprisonment  was  an  old  tobacco 
warehouse,  now  partially  occupied  by  the  Com 
missary  Department.  Clayborne  was  put  into  a 
room  on  the  lower  floor,  the  windows  of  which 
looked  out  upon  a  courtyard  where  a  sentry  paced 
day  and  night.  There  was  no  furniture  in  the 
room  beyond  a  few  boxes  which  served  him  for 
chair  and  table.  A  rolled-up  blanket  in  the  corner 
was  his  bed. 

The  next  day  after  his  capture  he  was  taken 
into  the  office  of  the  Commissioner  for  the  Ex 
change  of  Prisoners,  which  was  in  another  part  of 
the  same  building. 

An  officer  in  a  well-brushed  uniform  rose  from 


208  THE  CLAYBORNES 

his  chair  as  Gordon  Clayborne  was  ushered  into 
the  room. 

"  This  is  Captain  Clayborne,  who  tried  to  run 
our  batteries  ? "  he  inquired,  looking  at  Gordon 
carefully. 

"  It  is,  sir,"  replied  the  latter. 

"  I  am  Major  Sharp,  Commissioner  for  the 
Exchange  of  Prisoners,"  returned  the  other  impres 
sively. 

Clayborne  bowed. 

"  Let  me  offer  you  a  chair,  sir,"  continued  the 
major  affably. 

There  was  a  certain  mixture  of  pompousness 
and  kindly  good  nature  about  the  major  which  dis 
armed  any  strong  feeling  of  hostility.  Gordon 
bowed  again  politely,  and  took  the  proffered  chair. 

"  By  gad,  sir,"  exclaimed  the  major,  leaning  back 
in  his  seat,  "  our  boys  have  got  the  range  over  the 
river  pretty  closely  now.  You  can  tell  old  Porter 
to  send  along  some  more  of  his  gunboats.  We  '11 
smash  them  into  kindling  wood,  as  we  did  that  boat 
of  yours,"  and  Major  Sharp  laughed  airily. 

Clayborne  did  not  smile;  the  event  was  too 
recent  and  too  tragic  to  be  viewed  humorously. 

"  Did  I  not  hear,  Major,  that  a  Quaker  gunboat 
of  cotton  bales  and  pork  barrels  came  floating 
down  the  river  one  night  not  long  ago,  carrying 
the  fear  of  death  and  destruction  with  it?  Is 
that  story  correct  that  your  boys  blew  up  the 
Indianola  rather  than  let  it  fall  into  the  hands 
of  this  terrible  destroyer  ?  " 


THE  RIVER  QUEEN'S  BOILER  209 

"  You  're  right,  Captain  ;  you  had  the  laugh  on 
us  that  time,"  the  major  admitted  frankly. 

"  So  we  should  have  this  time  but  for  "  — 

"  But  for  a  neat  shot  through  the  engine-room, 
eh  ?  "  interrupted  the  major  cheerfully. 

"  No,  sir,  you  never  reached  our  engine.  We 
were  set  on  fire  by  —  Oh,  the  devil !  "  cried  Gordon 
hotly,  "  what 's  the  use  of  talking  about  it  now  it 's 
all  over !  The  fortunes  of  war  wrecked  the  River 
Queen  when  she  had  almost  gotten  safely  through, 
and  I  am  a  prisoner." 

"  Don't  take  it  too  much  to  heart,"  replied  the 
major  cheerfully.  "  I  've  seen  many  thousands  of 
you  fellows  first  and  last.  As  you  know,  I  am  the 
Commissioner  for  Exchange.  I  have  authority 
to  take  your  parole.  If  you  will  sign  the  usual 
cartel  you  will  practically  become  a  free  man, 
except  that  you  cannot  take  up  arms  again  until 
formally  exchanged."  Major  Sharp  handed  his 
prisoner  a  paper.  Gordon  read  it  carefully  twice, 
and  then  said  slowly  :  — 

"  I  like  that  document,  Major,  all  but  one 
clause.  If  you  '11  let  me  draw  my  pen  through 
that  I  '11  sign  willingly." 

"  Which  clause  is  that  ?  " 

"  The  one  binding  myself  not  to  take  up  arms 
until  exchanged.  At  the  rate  exchanges  are  taking 
place  I  might  be  obliged  to  remain  inactive  for  a 
year  or  two." 

The  major  laughed.  "  If  you  do  not  sign  you 
will  have  to  remain  inactive  until  the  end  of  the 
war." 


210  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  I  '11  take  the  risk." 

"Why  should  you  object  to  that  little  agree 
ment  ?  "  persisted  the  ruddy-faced  major.  "  I  've 
placed  that  same  document  in  the  hands  of  many 
thousands  of  your  people  within  the  last  few 
months,  and  I  shall  be  surprised,"  he  went  on 
with  importance,  "  if  I  don't  give  General  Grant 
one  of  those  to  sign  right  here  in  this  room 
within  thirty  days." 

Gordon  smiled.  "  I  should  not  be  surprised  to 
see  General  Grant  right  here  in  this  room  within 
thirty  days,  but  not  as  a  prisoner  of  war,  Major 
Sharp." 

"  Time  will  show,  Captain  Clayborne,  and  in  the 
mean  time  you  had  better  think  over  the  matter 
of  signing  this  cartel." 

"  I  will  think  it  over,"  replied  Gordon. 

"  While  you  are  pondering  the  subject  won't  you 
join  me  in  a  drink.  It  may  facilitate  thought,"  said 
the  major,  crossing  over  to  a  table  in  the  corner 
on  which  stood  a  jug  and  a  tin  cup. 

"Not  so  early  in  the  morning,  thank  you." 

"  Will  you  pardon  me,  then,  if  I  drink  alone  ?  " 
inquired  the  major,  pouring  out  a  generous  bumper. 

"  Certainly." 

As  Major  Sharp  put  the  whiskey  to  his  lips,  the 
door  opened,  and  an  orderly  entered  and  stood  at 
attention. 

"  What  is  this  ?  "  inquired  the  major,  when  he 
had  replaced  the  empty  cup  on  the  table. 

"  A  message  from  headquarters,  sir." 


THE  RIVER   QUEEN'S   BOILER  211 

Major  Sharp  broke  the  seal  and  read  the  paper 
at  a  glance.  "  The  devil !  "  he  exclaimed,  turning 
to  Clayborne  apologetically.  "  I  have  just  received 
instructions  from  the  commanding  general  to  with 
hold  your  parole  for  the  present." 

Gordon  bowed.  "  That  simplifies  matters,  Ma 
jor  ;  the  affair  is  then  not  left  for  me  to  decide." 

"  I  am  truly  chagrined,  sir,"  said  the  major. 

"  Do  not  be  troubled  on  my  account,"  replied 
Gordon. 

"  I  am  instructed  to  have  you  reconducted  to 
your  jail.  I  trust  that  you  find  the  quarters  com 
fortable,"  continued  Sharp. 

Gordon  smiled.  "  They  are  comfortable  as 
could  be  expected." 

"  Let  me  know  if  I  can  do  anything  for  you  at 
any  time,"  added  the  good-natured  official,  as  Gor 
don  was  escorted  back  to  his  cell. 

Captain  Gordon  Clayborne  had  not  been  re- 
lodged  in  his  prison  for  half  an  hour  when  a  guard 
came  in  and  announced  :  — 

"  Major  Bowie  would  like  to  see  you,  sir !  " 

The  name  startled  Gordon's  ears.  He  knew 
no  member  of  that  family  who  held  the  rank  of 
major. 

"Who  the  deuce  is  he?"  asked  Gprdon  of 
himself.  "  Show  the  gentleman  in,"  he  said 
aloud. 

A  light  footstep  sounded  in  the  hallway,  and 
Miss  Kegina  Bowie  came  into  the  room.  She  was 
dressed  in  a  suit  of  soft  Confederate  gray,  with 


212  THE  CLAYBORNES 

short  skirt  covering  the  tops  of  a  pair  of  neat 
riding-boots.  The  jacket  was  close  fitted  to  her 
form  and  shone  resplendent  with  a  double  row  of 
army  buttons. 

"  You  see,  Gordon,"  she  exclaimed,  "  how  soon 
the  tables  have  been  turned.  You  are  now  our 
prisoner."  There  was  a  saucy  curve  to  her  full 
lips,  and  her  wondrous  expressive  eyes  looked  at 
him  with  their  alluring  gaze. 

"  I  was  told  Major  Bowie  wanted  to  see  me," 
he  said,  with  surprise. 

"  /  am  Major  Bowie,"  she  answered  with  due 
gravity.  "  Did  you  not  know  that  ?  I  hold  a 
commission  in  the  Confederate  army  signed  by 
President  Davis  :  '  For  valuable  services  rendered 
to  these  Confederate  States  of  America  by  Regina 
Bowie,'  a  special  act  of  Congress  made  her  a  major 
and  voted  her  the  thanks  of  the  nation."  Regina 
pointed  to  the  star  which  decorated  her  coat  with 
a  gesture  of  self-approbation. 

"Well,  Major  Bowie,  so  you  were  right  after 
all.  The  River  Queen  did  not  get  past  the  bat 
teries,  and  I  am  a  prisoner." 

"  You  know  you  hold  your  freedom  in  your  own 
hands,  Gordon,"  she  replied  seriously. 

"  They  have  just  refused  to  let  me  sign  a  parole," 
he  answered. 

"  You  gave  me  my  freedom,  Gordon ;  I  can  give 
you  yours." 

"How  can  you  do  that?"  he  asked  quickly, 
looking  at  her  closely. 


THE  RIVER  QUEEN'S  BOILER  213 

"  Oh,  I  have  more  power  than  you  think,"  she 
replied  lightly.  Then  speaking  with  greater  ear 
nestness,  she  said,  "  But  I  shall  not  be  as  generous 
as  you  were.  Perhaps  it  is  because  I  am  a  woman, 
perhaps  it  is  because  it  is  my  nature,  I  shall  exact 
a  promise  from  you.  You  must  come  back  to  us. 
It  seems  to  me  now  more  than  ever  as  if  Fate  had 
ordered  thai;  I  should  be  the  means  of  winning  you 
back.  Your  destiny  and  mine  are  somehow  bound 
together.  I  cannot  explain  how,  but  I  feel  it. 
You  shall  come  back  to  our  cause  —  to  us."  There 
was  a  note  of  prophecy  in  her  tone  which  could 
not  fail  to  move  him. 

"  Regina,"  he  exclaimed,  "  what  a  strange 
woman  you  are  !  I  who  have  known  you  so  long 
feel  that  I  do  not  understand  you." 

There  was  an  inscrutable  expression  in  her  won 
derful  deep  eyes  as  she  replied  slowly,  "  How  can 
you  expect  to  understand  me  at  all  times,  when  I 
do  not  always  understand  myself  ?  " 

Gordon  shook  his  head.  "  It  seems  to  me  that 
our  paths  in  life  have  long  since  become  separated. 
I  feel  that  they  will  grow  farther  apart." 

"  It  shall  not  be,  Gordon  !  "  she  replied  impul 
sively,  taking  both  his  hands  in  hers.  "  I  want 
you  always  to  be  my  friend.  I  could  never  bear 
to  have  you  go  out  of  my  life  forever.  You  shall 
not!" 

She  stood  between  him  and  the  window.  The 
sun  streaming  in  touched  her  head,  bringing  out 
the  warm,  rich  color  of  her  dark  hair.  The  light 


214  THE  CLAYBORNES 

enveloped  her  whole  person,  making  her  seem  more 
than  ever  a  creature  of  ardent  life,  a  part  of  the 
warm  sunlight  of  day.  A  figure  passed  before  the 
window.  It  passed  rapidly,  giving  a  quick  jealous 
glance  into  the  room  as  it  went  by.  The  figure 
was  of  a  young  man  dressed  as  a  lieutenant  in  the 
Confederate  army. 

Gordon  sprang  to  the  window.  The  form  had 
disappeared,  but  he  had  seen  a  pale,  boyish  face 
with  brown  eyes.  Turning  towards  Regina  Bowie, 
he  demanded  excitedly,  "  How  did  he  come  here  ?  " 

"  Who  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  Francis  Ware  in  the  uniform  of  the  Confeder 
ate  army." 

For  almost  the  first  time  in  her  life  Regina 
Bowie  changed  color.  "  I  could  not  help  it,"  she 
said  ;  "  he  insisted  on  coming  with  me." 

"  You  could  not  help  it !  "  he  cried  scornfully. 
"  Did  he  desert  of  his  own  accord,  and  change 
his  coat  without  persuasion  ?  " 

"  He  would  follow  me,  and  no  man  shall  do  that 
and  not  wear  my  colors,"  she  replied  with  spirit. 
"  And  why  not,"  she  continued,  regaining  her  com 
posure.  "  He  is  another  soldier  for  us  and  a  good 
one.  He  's  a  right  fine  young  fellow.  All 's  fair 
in  love  and  war,  and  a  woman  must  make  recruits 
where  she  can." 

"  '  All 's  fair  in  love  and  war,'  "  repeated  Gor 
don  with  withering  sarcasm. 

"  Heavens,  Gordon,"  exclaimed  Regina,  "  you 
do  not  suppose  I  'm  in  love  with  the  boy !  " 


THE  RIVER  QUEEN'S  BOILER  215 

"  In  love  with  him,  no,"  cried  Gordon,  "  but  you 
have  made  him  love  you." 

Regina  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  Nonsense,  I 
can't  help  it  if  the  boy  likes  me  a  little." 

"  You  have  induced  him  to  desert.  Think  of 
what  that  means.  You  have  ruined  his  life  to 
gratify  your  vanity,  or  merely  to  get  another  — 
'recruit.'"  And  he  caught  her  arm  and  looked 
sternly  into  her  face. 

"  '  All 's  fair  in  love  and  war ! '  "  he  repeated  a 
second  time.  "  Who  set  fire  to  the  River  Queen  ? 
Tell  me !  "  and  he  shook  her  by  the  arm. 

Her  eyes  flashed  up  at  his  fearlessly.  "  You  are 
such  a  different  person  when  you  are  angry,  Gor 
don,  I  am  a  little  afraid  of  you  ;  but  I  think  I  like 
you  better  when  you  are  angry." 

"  Who  set  fire  to  the  boat  ? "  he  demanded 
again  vehemently. 

"  I  will  not  tell  you." 

He  dropped  her  arm  and  turned  away. 

"  What  will  his  family  do  when  they  learn  that 
he  is  a  deserter?"  he  continued,  speaking  more  to 
himself  than  to  the  woman. 

"  They  need  never  know,"  she  answered  coolly. 
"  They  will  think  he  was  killed." 

"  They  shall  never  know  from  me,"  cried  Gor 
don. 

"  And  you  will  forgive  me  when  I  tell  you  that 
no  matter  what  I  may  have  done,  I  desire  your 
welfare,"  exclaimed  Regina.  "  You  will  forgive 
me,  won't  you  ?  "  she  repeated  persuasively. 


216  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"For  what?"  he  inquired  bitterly.  "For  de 
coying  young  Ware,  for  setting  fire  to  the  River 
Queen?  My  God,  Regina,  what  am  I  to  think 
of  you?" 

"  Think,"  she  answered  passionately,  "  that  in  a 
sacred  cause  all  means  are  justified,  all  acts  are 
sacred.  I  will  stop  at  nothing.  Young  Ware  was 
necessary  to  me,  so  I  took  him.  I  resolved  that 
the  River  Queen  should  not  go  past  the  batteries 
carrying  Markley  a  prisoner,  and  she  did  not !  " 

She  stood  defiantly  before  him,  her  dark  eyes 
flashing  proudly,  her  body  trembling  with  emotion. 

Gordon  could  not  look  upon  her  without  being 
moved  by  the  very  violence  of  her  passion. 

Controlling  his  own  feelings,  he  said  sternly  :  — 

"  You  have  great  power  over  Ware  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  He  would  do  anything  in  the  world  for  you  ?  " 

"  I  think  so,  yes." 

"  Then  make  him  leave  you.  His  friends  think 
that  he  is  dead.  Force  him  to  leave  you  and  let 
him  come  to  life  again." 

"  I  cannot." 

"  Why  not  ?     You  do  not  love  him." 

"I  cannot  give  him  up,"  she  repeated  obdu 
rately. 

"  You  mean  you  will  not." 

She  turned  away  from  him,  and  there  followed  a 
few  moments  of  silence,  which  was  broken  by  the 
woman  saying  in  her  low,  sweet  voice,  "  You  have 
not  told  me  yet  that  you  forgive  me,  Gordon." 


THE  RIVER   QUEEN'S   BOILER  217 

"  No,  I  have  not  forgiven  you." 

"  But  you  will,  Gordon ;  say  that  you  will." 

"  I  cannot  say  it." 

"  Is  that  your  friendship  for  me  ?  "  she  asked 
reproachfully. 

"  And  your  friendship  for  me,  what  of  that  ?  " 
he  replied  bitterly.  "  Oh,  Regina,  I  see  you  at 
this  moment  as  you  really  are !  I  shall  always  see 
you  thus." 

She  looked  full  at  him  while  she  shook  her  head 
doubtingly.  "  You  are  angry  with  me  now,  but 
you  will  get  over  your  anger.  When  you  are 
cooler,  you  will  forgive  me.  Good-by  for  the  pre 
sent,  Gordon." 


IN    VICKSBURG   AND    OUT 

DURING  six  weeks  Gordon  Clayborne  remained 
a  prisoner  in  Vicksburg.  Almost  hourly  he  heard 
the  besieging  cannon  roar,  and  yet  Grant  remained 
outside  the  city. 

Regina  Bowie  had  disappeared  from  the  scene. 
There  was  still  a  way  to  get  out  of  Vicksburg  for 
those  who  knew  it  and  who  had  the  daring. 
"  Major  "  Regina  Bowie  had  gone  off  on  a  secret 
mission  of  importance,  and  Francis  Ware  had  gone 
with  her. 

Clayborne's  imprisonment  was  indeed  wearisome, 
although  the  tedium  was  sometimes  alleviated  by 
the  cheerful  Major  Sharp.  The  latter  would  occa 
sionally  invite  Gordon  to  visit  him  in  his  office,  to 
share  a  friendly  pipe  of  tobacco  or  an  old  news 
paper,  and  to  talk  over  the  latest  news  of  the  siege. 
The  major  was  an  optimistic  little  soul  who  saw 
everything  on  his  own  side  of  the  fence  through 
rose-colored  glasses. 

"  Clayborne,"  he  said,  speaking  with  great  seri 
ousness,  "  there  was  a  time  when  I  thought  your 
General  Grant  was  the  most  active  and  efficient 
officer  in  the  Federal  service ;  but  now,  sir,  I  'm 
compelled  to  change  my  mind." 


IN  VICKSBURG  AND  OUT  219 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  should  begin  to  doubt  his 
activity  or  efficiency  just  now,  Major,  in  view  of 
the  events  of  the  past  weeks." 

"  That 's  just  it,  sir.  How  a  man  of  any  mili 
tary  ability  could  put  himself  between  the  mill 
stones  of  Johnston  and  Pemberton  and  then  calmly 
sit  down  and  wait  to  be  ground  up  is  more  than 
I  can  understand." 

"  But  he  has  not  been  ground  up  yet,  Sharp,  and 
it  seems  to  me  he  is  doing  a  good  deal  of  grind 
ing.  Why  does  n't  Johnston  do  some  of  it  ?  " 

"  He  has  been  waiting  for  reinforcements,  so  as 
to  make  a  sure  thing  of  it.  Do  you  know,  Clay- 
borne,  I  have  a  strong  presentiment,  sir,  that  I 
shall  have  your  General  Grant  in  here  before 
many  days  as  a  prisoner  of  war,"  said  Sharp,  with 
a  cordial  laugh  as  he  turned  to  his  newspaper, 
which  made  its  appearance  printed  upon  the  re 
verse  side  of  some  flowery  wall-paper.  With  deep 
interest  the  dapper  major  read  the  leading  edi 
torial  :  — 

"  The  report  of  the  auditor  of  the  commonwealth 
shows  that  our  condition  as  a  self-sustaining  people  has 
materially  improved  since  the  beginning  of  the  war. 
This  interesting  and  exhaustive  report  shows  conclu 
sively  that  the  number  of  cattle,  sheep,  horses,  slaves, 
and  swine  in  these  Confederate  States  of  America,  as  a 
whole,  increased  rather  than  diminished  during  the  last 
twelve  months.  This  information  will  be  most  gratify 
ing  to  those  of  us  who  live  in  the  great  cities,  where  the 
visible  supply  of  provisions  is  temporarily  restricted. 
Should  it  not  be  a  source  of  great  pride  and  satisfaction 


220  THE  CLAYBORNES 

• — we  might  add  of  consolation,  were  we  in  need  of 
being  consoled  —  that  the  country  at  large  is  so  pros 
perous  and  that  this  prosperity  is  in  the  face  of  the  fact 
that  large  invading  armies  are  overrunning  our  fair 
land,  eating  and  devastating  our  crops,  stealing  our 
horses,  and  killing  our  fat  beeves  by  the  thousand  ? 

"  It  is  true  that  Providence  has  seen  fit  to  remove 
many  of  our  hogs  by  the  means  of  pestilence,  but  it  is 
not  for  us  to  question  the  workings  of  Providence.  And 
if  we  have  less  hogs,  have  we  not  our  horses,  our  cattle, 
and  our  slaves  ? 

"  It  is  also  true  that  Abe  Lincoln  has  issued  a  procla 
mation  emancipating  all  our  slaves,  and  this  emancipa 
tion  has  become  effective  so  far  as  the  Northern  arms 
have  been  able  to  sustain  it ;  but  when  the  war  is  ended, 
and  we  are  dictating  terms  of  peace  at  Washington, 
shall  we  not  exact  from  '  Father  Abraham '  twice,  yea 
thrice  payment  for  our  chattels  so  unrighteously  taken 
from  us  ?  " 

In  another  column  Sharp  read  the  following :  — 

"The  commanding  general's  report  states  with  ex 
ceeding  regret  that  the  supply  of  rations  in  this  city  has 
been  reduced,  but  that  this  reduction  is  beyond  the  con 
trol  of  those  in  charge  of  the  Commissary  Department. 
Therefore,  should  not  those  who  are  not  actively  engaged 
in  fighting  be  glad  to  temporarily  abstain  from  eating 
meat,  in  order  that  all  of  it  may  be  given  to  the  brave 
boys  bearing  arms  in  our  sacred  cause  ?  " 

STRAY    ITEMS    OF   NEWS. 

"  It  comes  to  us  by  rather  a  circuitous  route  that 
'  Beast '  Butler  has  pocketed  all  the  silver  spoons  in  New 
Orleans.  The  'Beast'  calls  the  Southern  girls  'little 
devils.'  " 


IN  VICKSBURG  AND  OUT  221 

"  Coming  from  such  a  source,  this  is  a  compli 
ment,"  interpolated  the  gallant  major,  and  then  he 
continued :  — 

"  The  Yankees  were  doubtless  aware  that  yesterday 
was  to  be  observed  in  this  city  by  fasting  and  prayer ; 
yet  it  was  in  perfect  keeping  with  their  nature  to 
endeavor  to  interrupt  the  devotions  of  our  people  by 
continuous  cannonading." 

"  Just  like  them,"  acquiesced  Sharp. 

LITERARY. 

"  We  have  to  thank  the  literary  ladies  and  gentlemen 
of  the  South  for  the  manner  in  which  they  have  seconded 
our  efforts  to  build  up  a  high  class  literary  journal  inde 
pendent  of  Yankeedom.  We  have  now  upon  our  table 
over  one  hundred  articles  in  prose  and  poetry  from  the 
ablest  pens  in  Vicksburg.  Among  them  are  letters  of 
congratulation,  advice,  and  encouragement.  We  shall 
in  our  next  issue  devote  a  small  portion  of  our  space  to 
answering  the  thousand  and  one  communications  from 
our  correspondents  and  in  enumerating  the  articles  ac 
cepted  and  those  rejected. 

"  We  add  to  our  list  of  contributors  the  names  of  Miss 
Bella  Jones  and  Miss  Regina  Bowie.  Miss  Bowie  re 
cently  escaped  from  the  Yankees,  by  whom  she  was  held 
as  a  prisoner  of  war.  Miss  Jones  is  a  poetess  of  con 
siderable  renown. 

"  If  this  war  has  done  us  no  other  good,  it  has  at  least 
freed  us  from  the  thralldom  of  the  Yankee  printing-press. 
We  are  no  longer  obliged  to  read  worthless  Yankee 
books,  but  will  have  Southern  books,  written  by  South 
ern  gentlemen,  printed  by  Southern  type,  on  Southern 
paper,  and  sold  by  Southern  publishers. 

"  (NOTE.  —  Our  next  issue  may  be  slightly  delayed, 


222  THE  CLAYBORNES 

owing  to  the  non-arrival  of  a  consignment  of  paper 
through  the  blockade.)  " 

With  an  angry  snort  the  major  continued  to 
read  from  another  article :  — 

"  Just  as  we  were  about  to  go  to  press  we  were  over 
come  by  mortification  and  surprise  to  see,  in  passing 
along  Main  Street,  this  shameless  advertisement  flaunt 
ing  the  eye  before  the  book  emporium  of  Carter  and 
West :  — 

"  '  For  sale,  1000  copies  of  standard  authors !  A 
choice  collection  of  Dickens  and  Thackeray,  Carlyle, 
Emerson,  and  Longfellow.' 

"  We  are  horrified  to  note  that  every  one  of  these  books 
bears  the  impress  of  a  Northern  publishing  house.  We 
were  just  congratulating  ourselves  that  the  war  had  freed 
us  from  literary  vassalage  to  the  Yankees,  and  now 
comes  Carter  and  West's  advertisement  like  a  bolt  from 
a  clear  sky.  We  are  too  shocked  and  grieved  to 
denounce  such  subservience  with  our  accustomed  vigor 
of  style.  We  therefore  remonstrate  with  our  erring 
brothers  more  in  sorrow  than  in  anger.  We  beseech 
them  to  throw  those  accursed  volumes  into  the  river. 

"  Dickens  and  Thackeray  would  be  of  course  good 
literature,  were  their  books  reprinted  by  Southern  pub 
lishers,  and  we  think  it  possible  these  talented  English 
men  might  find  good  material  for  their  clever  pens  in 
our  present  war.  Such  titles  as  these  would  find  ready 
sale  among  us  :  — 

"  '  David  Copperhead,  A  Tale  of  the  Reconstructed 
North,'  by  Charles  Dickens.  '  The  New  Virginians,  or 
Spurning  the  Northern  Scum,'  by  Wm.  M.  Thackeray. 

"  But  as  it  is,  these  books  are  all  defiled  by  the  North 
ern  pitch.  Let  Carter  and  West  be  Spartans,  and  may 
patriotism  triumph  over  sordid  motives  of  gain.  Throw 


IN  VICKSBURG  AND   OUT  223 

all  those  volumes  into  the  fire,  or  bury  them  a  mile 
deep,  that  the  teachings  of  Emerson  and  Longfellow 
may  not  be  allowed  to  corrupt  the  morals  of  our  people." 

"  Burn  them !  use  them  as  Mahomet  used  the 
library  of  Alexandria,  for  fuel  to  heat  the  baths," 
cried  Major  Sharp  dramatically,  as  he  turned  to 
the  financial  page. 

FINANCIAL. 

"  There  was  never  a  better  time  to  pay  off  debts  than 
at  present.  Money  is  plenty.  Send  in  your  subscrip 
tions  ! 

"  Beware  of  counterfeit  bills.  There  are  very  clever 
counterfeits  of  the  hundred  and  five  hundred  dollar 
issues  in  circulation.  One  of  our  most  respected  mer 
chants,  in  counting  up  his  cash  last  night,  discovered  to 
his  horror  that  of  five  thousand  dollars  he  had  two  thou 
sand  in  bad  bills. 

"  The  man  who  would  debase  the  national  currency 
during  the  present  crisis  is  a  fool  as  well  as  a  knave. 

"  Scrutinize  all  your  money  closely.  The  witticism 
of  the  fellow  who  said  the  other  day  that  it  did  not  mat 
ter  much  whether  he  took  good  or  bad  bills  is  beneath 
contempt. 

"  Sugar  advanced  fifty  cents  a  pound  yesterday,  but 
cotton  is  a  dollar  fifty  a  pound  in  New  York." 

"  Cotton  is  still  king !  "  cried  the  major  jubi 
lantly. 

IN   LIGHTER   VEIN. 

"  The  department  has  curtailed  the  rations  of  meat, 
but  as  long  as  there  is  left  to  us  one  ounce  of  mulesteak 
we  will  hold  out. 

"  By  the  way,  who  said  mulesteak  was  tough  ? 


224  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  Succulent  kitten  fricassees  are  now  being  served  at 
Bailey's  restaurant. 

"  Cold  mule-tongue  k  la  Bray  is  a  tasty  thing  for 
luncheon  these  hot  days." 

"  Here  is  a  conundrum,  Clayborne,"  said  the 
major,  with  twinkling  eye,  as  he  carefully  folded 
his  newspaper :  — 

"  If  Ulysses  spent  ten  years  before  the  walls  of 
Troy,  how  long  will  it  take  his  modern  namesake 
to  capture  Vicksburg  ?  "  and  whistling  cheerily, 
the  major  set  himself  to  the  duties  of  the  day. 

Grant  was  closing  in  on  Yicksburg.  With  that 
persistence  which  ignores  opposition  he  had  pressed 
steadily  forward.  Within  the  few  weeks  since 
crossing  the  Mississippi,  his  men  had  marched  two 
hundred  miles.  Placed  between  two  armies,  the 
combined  forces  of  which  outnumbered  his  own,  he 
had  fought  and  won  five  battles,  taking  many  pris 
oners.  He  had  beaten  Johnston  off,  and  driven 
Pemberton  back  into  Vicksburg.  "  We  have  been 
lucky  in  meeting  the  enemy  in  detail,"  was  Grant's 
simple  way  of  describing  a  campaign  as  unprece 
dented  and  extraordinary  as  it  was  brilliant  and 
successful. 

The  relentless  coil  of  his  victorious  armies  tight 
ened  around  the  helpless  city. 

With  that  courage  which  does  not  know  defeat 
even  when  staring  it  in  the  face,  the  Confederates 
held  the  town.  Starving,  they  talked  bravely  of 
plenty ;  overwhelmed,  they  talked  cheerfully  of  the 
prospect  of  the  siege  being  raised. 


IN  VICKSBURG  AND   OUT  225 

Twice  did  the  Union  forces  storm  the  breast 
works,  and  each  time  they  were  repulsed  with  loss. 
"  We  are  invincible,"  called  down  the  lean  but 
defiant  Southerner  from  his  rampart.  "  It  will 
take  your  General  Grant  ten  years  to  subdue  us." 

"  I  will  capture  the  city  if  it  takes  thrice  ten 
years,"  replied  the  determined  Grant ;  and  with 
his  army  reinforced  so  that  he  no  longer  feared 
Johnston,  who  was  hovering  in  his  rear,  Grant  sat 
down  before  the  walls.  Close  up  to  the  enemy's 
works  his  army  pressed,  throwing  aside  the  musket 
for  the  spade,  and  building  its  own  defenses  under 
the  muzzles  of  the  enemy's  guns. 

The  opposing  armies  were  not  always  engaged 
in  deadly  strife.  The  confronting  batteries  were 
sometimes  silent  and  at  rest.  How  marvelously 
inconsistent  is  man !  He  can  view  thousands  of 
his  enemy  mowed  down  hi  the  hot  charge  of  battle 
without  a  quiver  of  sympathy ;  he  can  calmly  de 
vise  and  construct  a  devilish  mine,  and  coolly  touch 
it  off,  blowing  his  fellow  creatures  into  eternity. 
But  when  the  battle  has  ceased,  and  the  work  of 
destruction  is  over,  he  will  minister  alike  to  friend 
and  foe.  He  alleviates  the  suffering  of  his  groan 
ing  enemy.  He  tries  to  restore  the  wonderrul 
mechanism  of  the  same  human  body  which  a  short 
time  ago  he  was  passionately  striving  to  tear  apart. 
He  will  even  take  from  his  own  thirsty  lips  the 
cup  of  precious  water  and  moisten  the  parched 
tongue  of  his  dying  foe.  He  can  bayonet  his  as 
sailant,  and  hurl  him  from  the  parapets  with  as 


226  THE  CLAYBORNES 

little  feeling  as  if  he  were  sticking  a  pig ;  and  when 
the  assault  is  over,  when  the  besieger  has  drawn 
back  his  attacking  force,  when  the  besieged  is  again 
strengthening  his  defenses,  these  bitter  struggling 
foes  of  a  few  hours  before  can  bandy  words  of  jest 
and  exchange  rough  courtesies. 

"  Hi,  there !  what  are  you  Yanks  a-doing  ? " 
yells  a  lusty  throated  Confederate. 

"  Guarding  thirty  thousand  of  you  Johnny  Rebs, 
and  making  you  feed  yourselves,"  is  the  reply. 

"  When  is  old  Grant  going  to  take  Vicksburg  ?" 

"  Any  day  now  when  he  has  a  mind  to." 

"  Reckon  he  '11  change  his  mind  when  Johnston 
comes  a  little  nearer." 

"  Johnston  's  skedaddling  in  the  other  direction 
as  fast  as  he  can  go." 

"  Reckon  he  '11  fool  yer  —  and  be  back  again. 
Then  we  '11  have  Grant  right  where  we  want  him, 
and  he  can't  run  away." 

"  Grant 's  not  one  of  the  running  kind.  Guess 
you  '11  know  him  better  before  long." 

"  I  reckon  it  11  be  a  long  time  before  you  know 
us  any  better  if  you  stay  out  there.  Why  don't 
you  come  in  and  get  us  ?  " 

"  Easier  work  sitting  here  and  starving  you 
out."  * 

"  Huh,  you  '11  never  do  that.  We  've  got  all 
the  rations  we  can  eat.  We  '11  be  feeding  you 
all  before  the  summer  is  over." 

Silence  for  a  few  moments. 

"Hi!  I  say,  Yank!" 


IN  VICKSBURG  AND  OUT  227 

"  What  do  you  want,  Reb  ?  " 

"  Got  any  coffee  ?  " 

"  I  guess  I  can  get  a  little." 

"  Reckon  if  you  could  I  can  find  a  little  smok 
ing  tobacco  to  give  you  in  exchange." 

"  All  right,  throw  it  over ;  anything  to  oblige 
you." 

And  while  the  pickets  laughed  and  smoked  and 
chaffed  together,  the  persistent  army  of  the  be 
siegers  settled  firmly  and  still  more  firmly  about 
the  city.  The  besieged  was  slowly  drawing  nearer 
to  his  last  loaf  of  bread ;  he  could  see  his  last 
ounce  of  powder.  Thus  war  goes  on.  Strange 
inconsistency  of  the  human  mind,  each  side  was 
fighting  for  a  principle  dearer  than  life  itself. 

One  hot  June  afternoon  Gordon  Clayborne  had 
come  into  the  prison  yard  for  exercise  and  recrea 
tion.  The  exercise  he  got  by  walking  up  and 
down  over  a  stretch  of  hot  sun-baked  earth  where 
some  negroes  were  throwing  up  the  dirt  to 
strengthen  the  ramparts  ;  the  recreation  he  found  in 
contemplating  a  pair  of  Confederate  sharpshooters 
exchanging  occasional  courtesies  with  some  Union 
riflemen  and  whiling  away  the  time  between  shots 
by  playing  seven-up  with  a  greasy  pack  of  cards. 
As  the  game  grew  interesting  one  of  the  sharp 
shooters  placed  his  cap  over  the  muzzle  of  his  rifle, 
and  exposing  it  gingerly  to  draw  the  enemy's  fire, 
proceeded  with  the  deal.  He  did  not  have  to  wait 
long.  Zip !  came  a  bullet,  piercing  the  cap  and 
whistling  off  into  space.  "  Mighty  lucky  my  skull 


228  THE  CLAYBORNES 

wasn't  in  that  cap,"  he  exclaimed  with  noncha 
lance  ;  "  I  play  the  Jack." 

Ping !  came  another  bullet,  striking  the  rifle  bar 
rel,  glancing  off  through  the  pack  of  cards  at  the 
dealer's  elbow,  scattering  them  like  leaves ;  con 
tinuing  its  singing  flight  perilously  near  the  head 
of  a  digging  negro,  finally  to  burrow  deep  into  the 
soft  earth.  "  Golly,  dat  came  near  biting  dis  nig 
ger's  ear,"  cried  the  darky,  jumping  out  of  the 
trench  with  alacrity  and  revealing  to  Gordon  the 
shining,  smiling  countenance  of  Apollo.  "  Fo' 
de  Lawd,  hit 's  Marse  Clay  bun,  hit  certainly  is," 
cried  Apollo,  forgetting  his  fright  in  his  surprise. 
"  What  you  a-doin'  yeah,  Marse  Claybun  ?  " 

"  That  is  what  I  should  ask  of  you,  Apollo.  The 
last  I  heard  of  you,  you  were  on  board  of  a  steam 
boat  bound  for  St.  Louis." 

Apollo  looked  about  him  furtively  to  make  sure 
that  no  one  was  within  earshot.  "  I  dun  got 
tuck,  marse."  • 

"  That  was  very  foolish  of  you,  Apollo." 

"  I  know  dat.  I 's  terruble  careless.  I  lak  dat 
steamboat  so  much  I  stayed  dar  all  winter,  den  I 
gets  on  one  ob  Marse  Porter's  gumboats  "  — 

"  One  of  Admiral  Porter's  gunboats,  Apollo  ?  " 

"  Yas,  suh,  and  dat  yeah  li'le  gumboat  gets  stuck 
in  de  mud  and  we  alls  wuz  kotched.  Dat 's  how  I 
come  to  be  workin'  yeah  mo'  'n  I  eber  work  on  de 
ole  marse's  plantation." 

"  You  were  exceedingly  unfortunate,  Apollo. 
You  should  have  remained  in  St.  Louis." 


IN  VICKSBURG  AND  OUT  229 

"  Marse  Claybun,  I  doan't  mine  dat.  I 's  used 
to  being  kotched.  I  doan't  mine  dis  work,  and  I 
can  'scape  mos'  any  day  I 's  a  min'  to." 

"How's  that?" 

"  I  can  get  out  of  Vicksburg  mos'  any  time  I 's 
a  min'  to,  marse.  I  knows  de  way,"  repeated 
Apollo,  grinning  widely.  "  Yas,  suh,  I  certainly 
kin,  but  I 's  mighty  sorry  to  see  you  a  prisoner, 
Marse  Claybun.  Lawd,  how  tough  you  mus'  fin' 
dis  yeah  mule  meat." 

"I'll  have  to  put  up  with  it,  until  General 
Grant  captures  the  city,  Apollo." 

Clayborne  continuing  his  walk,  Apollo  made  a 
step  as  if  to  follow  after,  a  look  of  subtlety  ap 
pearing  on  his  broad  features.  Then  suddenly 
changing  his  mind,  he  leaped  back  into  his  ditch 
and  began  digging  away  vigorously,  singing  to  him 
self  as  he  worked :  — 

"  Hoi'  your  light,  Brudder  Robert, 
Hoi'  your  light  ; 

Hoi'  your  light  on  Canaan's  shore. 
What  make  ole  Satan  fer  follow  me  so  ? 
Satan  ain't  got  notin'  fer  do  wid  me. 

«  Hoi'  your  light, 
Hoi'  your  light  on  Canaan's  shore. 
Jordan  Riber  I  'm  bound  to  go, 
Bound  to  go,  bound  to  go, 
Jordan  Riber  I  'm  bound  to  go, 
And  bid  'em  fare  ye  well. 

"  We  '11  cross  de  mighty  riber, 
My  army  cross  over, 


230  THE  CLAYBORNES 

We  '11  cross  de  Riber  Jordan, 
We  '11  cross  de  danger  water, 
My  army  cross  over, 
Pharoah's  army  drowned, 
My  army  cross  over." 

The  darky's  weird  incantation  sounded  in  Gor 
don  Clayborne's  ears  as  he  walked  back  to  his 
room,  and  through  the  open  window  was  borne  by 
the  evening  breeze  the  faint  echoes  of  the  chant,  — 

"  Pharoah's  army  drowned 
My  army  cross  over." 

The  night  was  hot,  and  Gordon  Clayborne  sat  with 
his  nose  to  the  window  bars  to  get  what  air  he 
could.  Fetid  and  sultry,  still  it  was  better  than 
the  stifling  atmosphere  of  the  interior.  Upon  the 
parapets  outside  walked  the  sentinels.  Lean  and 
pinched  they  were.  With  hollow  eyes  and  skin  like 
parchment  drawn  over  their  lantern  jaws,  they 
stalked  the  night  like  the  half-starved  wolf.  The 
eyes  burned  bright  in  the  sunken  sockets  and  the 
fingers  which  closed  nervously  on  the  musket-stock 
were  still  strong  and  sinewy.  The  last  ounce  of 
food,  the  last  charge  of  powder,  were  in  sight,  but 
surrender  was  not  yet  written  on  their  faces. 

Gordon  took  from  his  pocket  a  newspaper  three 
weeks  old  and  read  it  by  the  light  of  an  old  lan 
tern  at  his  elbow. 

A  flying  beetle,  looking  as  lean  and  hungry  as 
the  most  emaciated  of  the  besieged,  was  trying  to 
end  its  miserable  existence  by  feeding  upon  the 
flame  ;  varying  its  attempts  at  self-destruction  by 


IN  VICKSBURG  AND  OUT  231 

flying  noisily  about  the  room,  now  and  then  bring 
ing  up  with  a  thud  against  the  walls  and  falling 
to  the  floor,  there  to  recover  itself  and  again  take 
wing  to  resume  its  stupid  round. 

So  deeply  interested  was  Gordon  Clayborne  that 
he  did  not  hear  a  step  behind  him,  and  was  not 
aware  of  another  presence  in  the  room  until  he  felt 
a  gentle  twitch  at  the  skirt  of  his  coat.  Turning 
suddenly  he  saw,  to  his  astonishment,  Apollo  stand 
ing  in  the  semi-obscurity,  with  his  large  bony  finger 
to  his  lips,  enjoining  silence. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here,  Apollo  ?  " 

"  Hist,  Marse  Claybun,  make  no  sound.  Apollo 
has  come  fer  to  'scape  de  captain.  Marse  Clay- 
bun  lemme  go  free  once.  Now  I  'se  come  to  set 
him  free  —  jis'  like  Marse  Lincum's  sojers,"  and 
Apollo  grinned  widely  at  the  thought  of  acting  the 
part  of  a  liberator. 

Clayborne  shook  his  head,  smiling  at  the  sim 
plicity  of  the  darky. 

"  There  's  no  chance  for  me  to  escape,  Apollo. 
There  are  sentinels  posted  outside.  Even  if  I 
succeeded  in  getting  past  them,  there  are  three 
or  four  sets  of  outworks,  each  carefully  manned, 
and  the  men  are  watchful  and  vigilant ;  on  the  look 
out  for  Yankee  surprises." 

"  I  tink  Marse  Claybun  wanted  to  'scape,"  said 
Apollo,  with  a  crestfallen  manner. 

"I  should  like  to  get  out  —  very  much,"  an 
swered  Clayborne,  "  but  there  is  no  use  attempting 
the  impossible." 


232  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  I  know  de  passwords  fer  de  sentries,"  per 
sisted  Apollo  cheerfully. 

"  You  do  ?  "  Gordon  spoke  with  more  inter 
est. 

"  Yas,  suh,  dar  am  two  :  '  Constitushum '  fer  de 
inside  sentries,  an'  '  Biber  Lights '  fer  dose  on  de 
outside  works." 

"  Are  you  sure  of  that,  Apollo  ?  " 

The  darky  looked  aggrieved.  "  If  Marse  Clay- 
bun  wan'  to  'scape  hit 's  jis'  ez  easy  —  jis'  ez  easy 
—  ez  rollin'  off  a  log." 

"How?" 

"  Outside  de  city,  far  outside,  mo'  'an  'leven  mile 
down  de  riber,"  said  Apollo,  waving  his  arm  with 
a  wide  sweep,  "  lib  a  lady,"  and  the  darky  stopped 
here,  rolling  his  eyes  impressively. 

"  A  lady  ?  What  has  she  to  do  with  the  mat 
ter  ?  "  interrogated  Clay  borne. 

"  Yas,  suh,"  repeated  Apollo  emphatically  ;  "  a 
lady  wid  no  husban'." 

"  A  maiden  lady  ?  " 

"  No,  marse,  dat  is  not  wat  dey  calls  her.  Her 
husban'  is  dead." 

"  Oh,  a  widow." 

"Yas,  suh." 

"Well,  Apollo,  what  have  widow  ladies  to  do 
with  my  escape  ?  " 

"  Der  's  a  youn'  'federate  officer  dat  I  know  of," 
continued  Apollo,  allowing  his  voice  to  drop  still 
lower ;  "  he  go  to  see  dis  wider  lady  on  seberal 
occashuns." 


IN  VICKSBURG  AND  OUT  233 

"  What !  in  spite  of  the  Union  lines,  Apollo  ? 
Nonsense !  " 

"Lawd  sak',  Marse  Claybun,  you  dun  know  dis 
youn'  officer ;  fire  nor  flood  cud  n't  keep  him  'way 
from  de  ladies.  He 's  been  to  see  dis  wider  lady 
'thout  gettin'  kotched,  an'  I  dun  go  wid  him  on 
one  of  dese  occashuns." 

"Apollo,  are  you  telling  me  the  truth?" 

"  'Deed  I  is,  marse,  'deed  an'  'deed  I  is,"  de 
clared  the  darky  with  great  earnestness.  "  I  go 
wid  him  ez  his  servant.  And  hit  is  jis'  so  much 
easier  to  go  wid  Marse  Claybun  'cause  we  doan't 
hab  to  'scape  from  Marse  Lincum's  sojers  'cause 
dey  're  our  fren's." 

"  Apollo,  I  've  a  good  mind  to  skin  your  black 
hide  for  raising  my  hopes  like  this.  I  could  not 
run  the  sentries  even  though  I  did  know  the  pass 
words.  Some  one  would  suspect  or  recognize  me." 

"Marse  Claybun,"  whispered  Apollo,  "you  jis' 
put  on  the  coat  which  I  brought,  and  you  cum  wid 
me ;  jis'  ez  shu  ez  you  lib  we  '11  get  pass  dese 
'federates."  He  produced  a  package  from  which 
he  took  out  a  coat  of  a  Confederate  major. 

"  Hit's  his  dress  coat,"  the  darky  added,  with  a 
chuckle,  "  de  one  he  always  wears  when  he  visit  de 
ladies.  'Pears  lak  hit 's  scand'lous  wicked  fer  me 
to  steal  it,  an'  I  would  n't  do  it  fer  anybody  but 
Marse  Claybun." 

Gordon  looked  at  the  serious  black  face  for  a 
moment,  then  throwing  off  his  coat  slipped  into  the 
gray  one,  saying  as  he  did  so:  "Apollo,  if  you 


234  THE  CLAYBORNES 

value  your  black  hide,  you  'd  better  be  careful  how 
you  aid  prisoners  to  escape." 

The  African  grinned  widely.  "  Ma  black  hide 's 
wuf  a  good  deal  to  me,  but  Lawd  sak's,  Marse 
Claybun,  we  alls  is  too  cute  to  get  kotched  dis  time. 
In  dis  yeah  basket  wat  I  'se  got  is  de  rations  for 
de  orficers'  mess.  Dey  is  mighty  po'  pickin's  and 
dey  is  a-gettin'  wurs  an'  wurs  ebery  day.  I  '11  jis' 
go  out  wid  dese  rations  and  you  foller  along  lak  you 
'spected  I  run  off  wid  'em.  Den  when  we  all  gets 
out  of  dis  yeah  commissionary  we  kin  pass  by  all 
de  sentries,  wid  you  a-sayin'  de  countersign,  an' 
lookin'  lak  you  does." 

"All  right,  lead  the  way,  Apollo." 

The  sentry  at  the  outer  door  of  the  building 
gave  them  but  a  glance  as  they  went  by.  Apollo's 
black  features  were  as  set  as  polished  bronze,  and 
he  walked  as  though  he  had  no  thought  beyond 
the  basket  in  his  hand.  Gordon  Clayborne  re 
turned  the  soldier's  salute,  and  walked  noncha 
lantly  out.  Through  the  fortifications  and  past 
the  outer  works  the  countersign  and  the  gray  uni 
form  carried  them  until  they  stood  in  the  open 
space  outside  the  furthest  defenses. 

Quickly  followed  by  Apollo,  Clayborne  climbed 
a  steep  hill,  and  throwing  himself  on  the  ground 
looked  back  at  the  city  they  had  left.  It  lay  in 
silence  and  darkness,  save  when  the  voice  of  the 
changing  guards,  or  the  occasional  flash  of  a  gun 
with  its  singing  shell,  broke  the  stillness  of  the 
night  air. 


IN  VICKSBURG  AND  OUT  235 

Gordon  Clayborne  continued  looking  down  upon 
the  city  for  a  few  moments,  then  turning  to  the 
negro,  whispered :  — 

"  Where  are  the  Union  pickets,  Apollo  ?  " 

"  Dey  is  about  "  —  began  the  darky  ;  but  the 
sentence  ended  in  a  stifled  yell,  for  he  had  been 
seized  by  the  ankles  and  thrown  violently  to  the 
ground. 

Hands  had  been  laid  upon  Clayborne  at  the 
same  time.  His  instinct  always  led  him  to  fight 
back,  but  he  was  almost  immediately  overpowered, 
and  lay  stretched  upon  the  turf  with  a  man  on  his 
chest  and  another  on  his  legs. 

They  had  fallen  among  some  Union  scouts,  who 
had  been  quietly  inspecting  the  Confederate  bat 
teries  from  the  same  knoll.  When  Clayborne  be 
came  aware  who  his  captors  were,  he  announced 
his  name,  grade,  and  regiment.  • 

"  Then  what  in  the  deuce  are  you  doing  here, 
and  why  are  you  wearing  that  gray  coat  ? "  was 
the  natural  inquiry. 

"  I  have  just  escaped  from  Vicksburg,  and  this 
coat  aided  me  in  getting  past  their  sentries.  Don't 
you  tie  my  hands,"  he  continued,  resisting  vigor 
ously.  "  1 11  go  with  you  quietly  enough.  I  'm 
only  too  anxious  to  get  within  the  Union  lines." 

"  Very  well,  come  along  then.  We  shall  turn 
you  over  to  the  provost  marshal.  He  can  examine 
into  the  truth  of  your  story." 

"  All  right,  as  long  as  you  take  me  to  him  at 
once,"  answered  Clayborne. 


236  THE  CLAYBORNES 

A  few  minutes  later  they  stood  before  the  pro 
vost  marshal's  tent.  Apollo's  black  face  showed 
signs  of  fear.  He  did  not  understand  such  treat 
ment  in  the  hands  of  "  Marse  Lincum's  sojers." 

"  Marshal,  here  's  a  man  whom  we  found  skulk 
ing  about  in  the  dark  in  the  company  of  a  negro. 
He  says  he 's  an  officer  of  the  — th  regiment." 

"  I  am  Captain  Gordon  Clayborne,  Company  D, 
— th  regiment,"  said  Gordon  haughtily,  for  he 
was  fast  losing  patience. 

The  provost  marshal  jumped  to  his  feet  with  a 
cry: — 

"  Captain  Clayborne,  I  have  an  order  for  your 
arrest !  " 

"  My  arrest !  Nonsense,  marshal,  I  have  been 
a  prisoner  in  Vicksburg  for  the  past  six  weeks." 

"  The  warrant  is  dated  several  weeks  back,  and 
I  take  you  into  immediate  custody." 

"  You  're  crazy,  marshal.  This  is  an  outrage, 
and  I  won't  submit  to  it !  Send  at  once  to  my 
regiment !  Send  for  my  colonel !  Send  to  the 
general  of  brigade  if  you  like  " — 

"  No,  sir,"  interrupted  the  provost  marshal,  "  I 
know  my  business." 

"  Upon  what  charge  do  you  dare  lay  hands  upon 
me  ?  "  cried  Clayborne  hotly. 

"  Upon  three  charges,"  replied  the  marshal, 
taking  a  paper  from  his  pocket.  "  For  permitting 
a  prisoner  to  escape,  for  desertion,  and  treason." 

"  Deserting ! "  exclaimed  Clayborne.  "  Great 
heavens,  I  was  captured  by  the  enemy  while  trying 


IN  VICKSBURG  AND  OUT  237 

to  run  the  Vicksburg  batteries,  and  you  call  that 
'  desertion  ! '  This  is  infamous !  Who  dares  ac 
cuse  me  of  treason  !  " 

"  I  can't  answer  any  questions,  Captain  Clay- 
borne.  My  duty  is  merely  to  take  you  into  cus 
tody  wherever  found,"  said  the  provost  marshal 
dryly. 


CHAPTER  XVH 

ULYSSES   TAKES    HIS    TROY 

THE  unexpected  and  the  inevitable  had  come  to 
pass  :  unexpected,  because  the  sanguine  courage  of 
the  South  could  never  see  defeat  until  staring  it 
in  the  face  ;  inevitable,  because  from  the  moment 
Grant's  army  had  crossed  the  Mississippi  it  had 
gone  forward  to  decisive  victory. 

The  modern  Ulysses  had  at  last  taken  Troy,  and 
Major  Sharp's  office  had  witnessed  the  paroling  of 
thirty  thousand  Southern  prisoners.  The  North 
went  wild  with  excitement  over  this  and  another 
great  victory ;  and  from  that  fourth  day  of  July 
when  Vicksburg  surrendered  and  the  battle  of 
Gettysburg  was  fought,  the  tide  turned  in  the 
fortunes  of  the  Union. 

General  Ulysses  S.  Grant,  with  Dame  Fortune 
showering  her  golden  favors  upon  him,  with  an 
exultant  nation  in  a  delirium  of  joy  crowning  him 
with  the  laurel  wreath,  was  the  same  imperturbable, 
unobtrusive  gentleman  who  had  suffered  adversity 
and  borne  unjust  accusations  with  silent  and  heroic 
fortitude. 

He  took  this  ebullition  of  emotion  at  its  true 
value ;  he  heard  with  a  quaint  smile  of  amusement 


ULYSSES  TAKES  HIS  TROY  239 

how  his  name  was  honored  by  being  bestowed  on 
every  kind  of  progeny  from  babies  —  black  and 
white  —  to  kittens  and  puppies  ;  and  he  accepted 
the  Sunday-school  medals,  university  degrees, 
houses,  swords,  and  horses  as  the  customary  trib 
utes  to  newly  made  heroes.  He  had  won  success. 
He  had  silenced  his  traducers.  Once  for  all  he 
had  stilled  ignorant  criticism.  He  had  won  the 
lasting  confidence  of  the  people,  and  he  now  set 
his  determined  face  in  the  direction  of  the  further 
work  at  hand. 

He  was  seated  in  his  headquarters  writing  letters 
and  dispatches  in  his  rapid,  irregular  hand  when 
Benjamin  Chesterfield  entered.  Without  looking 
up,  the  general  shifted  his  cigar  and  said  cordially : 
"  Well,  Chesterfield,  what  is  the  news  ?  " 

"You  are  spoken  of  as  a  candidate  for  the 
presidency." 

Grant  laughed.  "  It  also  appears  that  without 
my  knowledge  I  have  been  initiated  into  a  large 
number  of  secret  societies,  and  that  half  a  hun 
dred  of  the  most  distinguished  social,  literary,  and 
artistic  clubs  of  the  country  have  honored  me  with 
membership.  I  certainly  cannot  consider  any  men 
tion  of  my  name  in  connection  with  the  presidency 
at  this  time  as  serious." 

"  But  it  is  serious,  General ;  prominent  poli 
ticians  are  mentioning  your  name,  and  many  peo 
ple  throughout  the  country  are  asking  whether 
you  would  not  be  an  available  candidate." 

"Then    such  discussion   should   be  stopped  at 


240  THE  CLAYBORNES 

once,"  exclaimed  Grant  earnestly,  looking  up  from 
his  work.  "  There  is  only  one  man  who  should 
be  thought  of  for  the  place,  and  that  man  is 
Abraham  Lincoln.  Not  one  straw  should  be 
allowed  to  stand  in  the  way  of  his  renomination." 
The  general  spoke  with  decision,  and  turned  again 
to  his  writing.  "  I  have  just  been  made  major- 
general  in  the  regular  service.  Is  that  not  enougli 
honor  for  any  man  ?  "  he  added  pleasantly. 

"  You  have  my  warmest  congratulations,  General 
Grant,"  replied  Chesterfield,  "  and  you  must  not 
think  my  congratulations  the  less  sincere  because 
of  my  coming  to  you  among  the  first  to  ask  a 
favor." 

Grant  looked  up  inquiringly. 

"  A  young  friend  of  mine  has  got  into  trouble, 
and  I  want  to  help  get  him  out ;  particularly  as  I 
was  indirectly  the  instrument,  although  the  inno 
cent  instrument,  of  bringing  about  the  situation 
which  led  to  his  undoing." 

"  Who  is  the  man  ?  "  asked  Grant,  who  had  again 
turned  to  the  writing  on  the  pine  table  before  him. 

"  Captain  Gordon  Clayborne.  He  was  held 
prisoner  here  in  Vicksburg  by  the  rebels.  He 
escaped,  and  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  provost 
marshal,  was  arrested  on  the  charge  of  treason." 

"  The  War  Department  has  ordered  that  Captain 
Clayborne  be  sent  immediately  to  Washington, 
where  he  is  to  be  tried  by  court-martial,"  answered 
General  Grant  abruptly. 

"  So  I  understand,"  replied  Chesterfield,   "  but 


ULYSSES  TAKES  HIS  TROY  241 

I  wish  you  would  permit  me  to  tell  you  a  few  facts, 
which  probably  do  not  appear  in  any  report,  and 
which  are  not  likely  to  appear  upon  any  of  the 
records." 

"  Go  ahead." 

"  You  see  there  is  a  woman  in  the  case.  This 
Mora  Dowd,  which,  by  the  way  is  not  her  real 
name,  is  a  bewitching  beauty  with  a  voice  like  an 
angel.  In  reality  she  is  a  little  devil.  She  is 
clever,  too  deuced  clever  for  an  ordinary  mortal. 
Her  ruling  passion  is  her  devotion  to  the  cause  she 
has  espoused.  To  this  she  would  sacrifice  any 
thing  or  anybody  who  came  in  her  way.  She  has 
been  in  Memphis,  St.  Louis,  even  Washington. 
She  has  got  any  quantity  of  valuable  information 
from  our  officers.  I  don't  mean  young  boyish 
lieutenants  and  volunteer  captains,  but  regular 
officers  of  the  line  have  been  captivated  by  her 
wiles.  She  can  bring  a  hoary-headed  old  general 
to  her  feet,  or  wind  a  young  subaltern  around 
her  finger  as  easily  as  she  can  eat  an  orange  ;  and 
she  can  throw  them  away  just  as  easily  as  she 
tosses  aside  the  orange  skin.  Now  this  Captain 
Clayborne  is  a  gallant  young  fellow,  generous  and 
warm-hearted,  with  certain  ideas  of  chivalry  which 
have  been  in  his  blood  for  generations.  Unfor 
tunately  he  had  command  of  the  boat  which  was 
bringing  this  fair  and  dangerous  prisoner  down 
the  river.  During  the  trip  she  worked  upon  his 
sympathies.  She  entered  the  plea  of  old  friend 
ship,  bewitched  him,  ensnared  him,  got  him  under 


242  THE  CLAYBORNES 

her  spell  in  such  a  way  that  he  came  to  believe  he 
was  in  honor  bound  to  release  her.  That 's  the 
whole  story  in  a  nutshell,  General.  The  man  will 
be  convicted  of  the  charge  against  him.  Let  him 
be  pardoned  and  reinstated." 

"  I  have  no  authority  to  exercise  clemency  in 
this  case,  Chesterfield.  That  rests  with  the  Presi 
dent," 

"  The  President  is  not  very  likely  to  refuse  you 
anything  just  now." 

General  Grant  sat  a  few  moments  in  thought. 

"  I  don't  mind  telling  you,  Chesterfield,  I  had 
been  giving  the  subject  some  thought  before  you 
came  in." 

"  Then  you  will  do  something  for  him  ?  " 

"  I  dislike  very  much  to  interfere  in  any  per 
sonal  way  with  the  work  of  the  War  Department, 
but  I  have  decided  at  least  to  see  Captain  Clay- 
borne  and  to  form  my  own  opinion  as  to  the 
extent  of  his  guilt." 

"  I  am  sure  that  such  an  investigation  will  re 
sult  favorably  to  Captain  Clayborne,"  said  Ches 
terfield  with  earnestness.  "  I  hope  you  will  not 
consider  me  officious  in  speaking  of  the  matter." 

"  Not  at  all,"  answered  the  general  pleasantly. 
"  I  am  glad  to  get  this  additional  light  on  the 
subject." 

When  the  newspaper  correspondent  had  left, 
General  Grant  turned  to  his  orderly.  "  Send  for 
Captain  Gordon  Clayborne." 

On  the  table  before  the  general  was  a  letter. 


ULYSSES  TAKES  HIS  TROY  243 

It  was  an  autograph  letter  from  the  President  of 
the  United  States,  and  it  spoke  in  warm-hearted, 
generous  terms  of  the  general's  success,  giving  him 
unstinted  credit  for  the  victory  he  had  won. 

General  Grant  reread  this  letter  carefully,  and 
then  taking  up  his  pen,  busied  himself  in  writing 
the  reply.  While  he  was  thus  engaged  Captain 
Clayborne  was  brought  into  the  room.  When  he 
had  finished  writing,  the  general  turned  in  his 
chair,  and  swinging  one  leg  over  the  other  in  an 
easy  attitude,  looked  attentively  at  the  young  man 
who  stood  there,  erect  and  soldierly,  yet  with  a 
certain  easy  grace  and  freedom  from  embarrass 
ment  which  came  to  him  by  nature.  He  had  just 
learned  that  he  had  been  summoned  to  Washing 
ton.  The  thought  of  possible  public  disgrace  burnt 
like  hot  iron  within  him.  His  spirit  leaped  up  in 
resentment.  He  knew  he  could  not  endure  such 
a  punishment.  Therefore  it  was  in  no  humble 
frame  of  mind  that  he  confronted  the  general  in 
the  loose  blue  coat  and  rusty  hat,  who  sat  looking 
at  him  intently  out  of  his  steel-blue  eyes. 

Success  was  dear  to  Gordon  Clayborne,  and  he 
had  failed.  He  was  a  man  of  true  courage  and 
ardent  feeling,  who  held  his  life  but  lightly  in  the 
scale  with  honor  or  with  duty.  Touch  his  honor 
and  you  touched  him  to  the  quick.  Accuse  him 
of  treachery  and  you  drew  forth  fire. 

His  honor  had  called  upon  him  to  release  a 
woman,  —  a  mistaken  idea  of  honor  some  might 
call  it,  yet  it  was  his  idea.  His  conscience  acquitted 


244  THE  CLAYBORNES 

him  of  any  serious  wrong-doing.  In  his  heart  he 
felt  he  had  not  been  disloyal  to  the  nation.  There 
fore  he  returned  the  piercing  gaze  with  the  look  of 
hauteur  which  upon  occasion  the  Claybornes  could 
so  easily  assume. 

Grant,  who  never  forgot  a  face,  broke  the  silence 
by  asking  in  his  sharp,  abrupt  way,  "  Are  you 
not  the  officer  who  commanded  the  company  in  a 
skirmish  at  La  Grange  a  year  ago  last  June  ?  " 

"  I  am,  sir." 

"A  few  months  later,  in  an  expedition  across 
the  Tennessee,  did  you  not  rescue  an  officer  from 
drowning  ?  " 

Again  Gordon  bowed. 

"  Then  all  I  have  to  say,  Captain  Clayborne,  is 
that  I  do  not  believe  that  a  man  who  conducted 
himself  with  such  bravery  as  you  did  upon  those 
occasions  has  been  guilty  of  treason." 

One  timely  word  of  sympathy,  encouragement, 
or  confidence  may  often  change  the  current  of  a 
man's  life. 

Gordon  had  come  into  the  presence  of  the  com 
manding  general  in  a  reckless,  desperate  mood, 
which  made  him  ripe  for  almost  anything.  A  word 
of  severity  might  have  caused  his  proud  spirit  to 
burst  forth  in  some  retort  or  some  overt  act  of 
insubordination  which  would  have  led  to  his  com 
plete  ruin.  The  frank  avowal  of  the  general 
touched  him.  His  hostility  was  completely  dis 
armed.  He  did  not  make  any  immediate  reply,  but 
the  mask  of  pride  which  he  had  worn  dropped  away. 


ULYSSES   TAKES   HIS  TROY  245 

"  The  War  Department  has  ordered  that  you  be 
sent  to  Washington,"  Grant  went  on  abruptly. 

A  flush  deepened  on  Gordon's  cheek,  his  dark 
eyes  flashed  aggressively,  and  he  threw  back  his 
head  like  a  restive  horse  under  a  stinging  lash.  If 
he  had  spoken,  it  would  have  been  to  give  some 
reply  of  defiance,  but  with  an  effort  he  held  him 
self  in  check. 

"  If  you  will  agree  to  go  directly  to  Washington 
and  to  endeavor  to  subdue  your  feeling  of  pride 
and  resentment,  you  shall  go  unaccompanied  by 
any  guard,"  continued  the  general  quietly. 

Gordon  hesitated.  He  had  made  up  his  mind 
that  he  could  never  stand  the  disgrace  of  a  court- 
martial  and  live,  yet  the  generosity  of  the  general 
moved  him  greatly. 

"  Let  me  give  you  a  piece  of  advice,"  said  the 
general  dryly.  "  If  you  've  done  anything  which 
makes  you  amenable  to  discipline,  make  up  your 
mind  to  face  the  music.  If  your  conscience  ac 
quits  you  of  any  graver  crime,  so  much  the  easier 
should  it  be  for  you." 

"  I  give  my  parole,"  answered  Gordon  slowly, 
"  and  thank  you  for  your  confidence." 

"  Very  well.  You  shall  be  relieved  from  re 
straint  at  once.  You  will  start  East  to-night." 
Grant  summoned  his  orderly,  gave  a  few  quick 
orders,  and  the  interview  closed  with  a  brisk  "  Good- 
afternoon,  Captain  Clayborne." 

As  Clayborne  left  the  room  General  Grant  took 
up  his  pen  and  wrote  rapidly  a  few  lines,  which  he 


246  THE  CLAYBORNES 

folded  and  addressed  to  the  chief  executive  of  the 
nation.  This  letter  he  enclosed  under  cover  to  the 
newspaper  correspondent,  Chesterfield. 

Clayborne  walked  out  of  headquarters  with  his 
heart  warm  with  a  deep  regard  for  the  man  who 
had  given  such  a  generous  testimony  of  his  confi 
dence. 

As  he  walked  through  the  battered  streets  of 
Vicksburg  he  saw  many  Confederate  soldiers  who 
were  kept  waiting  in  the  city  until  their  paroles 
could  be  made  out  and  signed.  The  blue  coats 
and  the  gray  were  freely  intermingled,  and  men 
who  for  months  had  been  opposing  each  other  with 
bitter  determination  were  seen  seated  together 
upon  street  corners,  amicably  playing  euchre,  or 
eating  from  the  same  loaf,  while  they  discussed  the 
campaign  under  the  very  shadow  of  walls  so  crip 
pled  with  cannon-shot  that  they  stood  tottering 
upon  their  foundations. 

Regina  Bowie  had  returned,  and  remained  in 
Vicksburg  during  all  the  evacuation. 

Before  the  ink  was  dry  on  the  terms  of  sur 
render,  Regina  had  laid  aside  her  coat  of  gray 
for  a  less  marked  costume.  She  could  be  of  much 
greater  service  to  her  cause  as  a  woman  than  as  a 
prisoner  of  war,  and  as  her  name  appeared  upon 
no  muster-roll,  Miss  Bowie  bade  adieu  to  her  brass 
buttons,  ceasing  to  be  "  major,"  to  retire  into  the 
less  obtrusive,  but  for  the  present  more  valuable, 
character  of  an  attractive  young  woman  dressed  in 
black.  Regina  could  change  her  character  with  her 


247 

gown,  she  could  change  an  admirer  as  easily  as  she 
could  take  off  a  pair  of  gloves ;  but  it  would  have 
been  well-nigh  impossible  for  her  to  have  appeared 
in  any  role  that  did  not  include  beauty  and  charm. 
Through  the  folds  of  her  dark  veil,  Miss  Bowie 
had  seen  worn-out,  hungry  soldiers  throw  down 
their  arms,  and  surrender  the  city  they  had  so  long 
and  so  valiantly  defended.  The  eyes  behind  that 
veil  flashed  with  resentment,  and  the  woman's 
hands  were  clinched  as  she  witnessed  this  humiliat 
ing  scene.  She  gave  no  further  outward  sign  of 
her  emotion,  but  the  fire  within  her  heart  burned 
fiercely.  Thus  Regina,  remaining  in  Vicksburg 
after  the  surrender,  had  been  able  to  inform  her 
self  upon  many  subjects  of  value  and  interest. 
Among  other  things  she  learned  that  Captain 
Clayborne  was  held  in  arrest  under  the  charge  of 
having  permitted  some  prisoners  to  escape.  It  was 
therefore  with  surprise  that  she  saw  him  enjoying 
apparent  freedom.  She  felt  sure  that  her  informa 
tion  had  been  correct,  yet  here  was  an  apparent 
contradiction  of  it.  She  smelled  a  mystery  here, 
and  resolved  to  discover  what  it  was. 

Meanwhile  Gordon  made  the  preparations  for 
his  departure  to  Washington  that  night.  A  steamer 
would  take  him  to  Memphis,  whence  he  could  go 
by  rail  to  the  East.  It  was  with  varied  emotions 
that  he  stepped  aboard  the  boat  which  lay  at  the 
wharf,  ready  to  steam  securely  up  the  river,  past 
the  silent  and  now  friendly  guns,  which  had  given 
him  such  a  disastrous  welcome  a  few  weeks  before. 


248  THE  CLAYBORNES 

He  had  no  sooner  seen  his  baggage  deposited 
in  his  stateroom  than  the  shining  face  of  Apollo 
appeared  at  the  door. 

"Well,  you  black  rascal,  where  did  you  come 
from,  and  why  did  you  run  off  and  leave  me  so 
unceremoniously  the  other  night  when  I  was  in  the 
hands  of  the  provost  marshal  ? "  Clayborne  de 
manded  with  affected  sternness. 

"  Lawd,  Marse  Claybun,  runnin*  jis'  cums 
nat'ral  to  dis  nigger,"  was  the  cheerful  reply.  "  I 
cud  n't  do  no  good  by  stay  in',  and  ma  black  hide 
wuf  consid'ble  to  me,  so  I  jis'  run  off.  But  I  fin' 
I  'se  a  free  nigger  now,  and  I  ain't  afeared  of  de 
provost  marshal  ox  no  one  else  no  more,"  and 
Apollo  drew  himself  up  proudly. 

"  Well,  you  '  free  nigger,'  what  are  you  going 
to  do  now  ? "  asked  Clayborne,  laughing  good 
humoredly. 

"  I  'se  a-goin'  to  wuk  on  de  riber  boats  for  the 
res'  of  ma  life,  and  I  '11  do  eberyting  I  kin  for 
Marse  Claybun." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

BEFORE   THE    COURT 

DURING  the  few  days  which  were  occupied  by 
the  journey  between  Vicksburg  and  Washington, 
Gordon  Clayborne  had  ample  time  for  thought, 
and  to  fortify  his  mind  to  meet  the  ordeal  through 
which  he  must  pass.  He  had  determined  to  face 
the  consequences  of  his  action  with  self-restraint 
and  coolness;  but  when  the  time  for  the  court- 
martial  actually  arrived,  and  he  found  himself 
facing  the  array  of  officers  who  had  been  called  to 
serve  upon  the  board,  Clayborne  felt  his  stoicism 
somewhat  shaken.  He  was  to  be  tried  before  the 
highest  tribunal  of  the  United  States  army ;  and 
the  thirteen  members  of  the  board,  attired  in  full- 
dress  uniform,  formed  an  imposing  body  of  men. 
They  were  dignified  in  bearing,  and  of  impartial 
mind ;  their  sole  purpose  was  to  do  their  duty. 

The  accused  was  also  in  full  dress,  with  the  ex 
ception  of  his  sword.  Outwardly  he  looked  as  if 
he  had  been  summoned  to  a  review ;  but  there  was 
a  light  in  his  eye  and  a  glow  on  his  cheek  which 
told  that  beneath  the  surface  the  hot  blood  was 
surging.  The  minutes  went  by,  and  the  prepara 
tions  for  the  trial  proceeded  with  due  deliberation 


250  THE  CLAYBORNES 

and  solemnity.  Besides  the  board  of  court-mar 
tial,  the  counsel  and  the  witnesses,  there  were 
some  twoscore  persons  in  the  court-room.  They 
were  all  connected  with  the  army.  Among  them 
Clayborne  at  once  recognized  the  thin,  clear-cut 
features  of  General  Ware.  The  general's  face  was 
stern,  and  looked  coldly  at  Gordon,  who,  stung  to 
the  quick  by  the  cutting  severity  in  those  cold  gray 
eyes,  turned  proudly  away.  How  different  was  the 
general's  severe  attitude  to  that  of  his  daughter ! 
In  Gordon's  pocket  was  a  note  from  her,  a  few 
hurriedly  written  lines,  yet  they  made  his  heart 
warm  towards  the  generous-minded  girl  who  had 
written  them,  and  even  made  him  look  upon  the 
general's  coldness  with  more  indulgence. 

"  I  have  just  learned,"  the  letter  ran,  "  that  you 
are  in  Washington  and  in  trouble  ;  that  you  are 
to  be  tried  by  a  court-martial  upon  a  horrible 
charge.  It  was  wrong  of  you  not  to  let  me  know 
about  this  yourself.  I  have  only  time  to  write 
these  few  lines  to  reach  you  before  the  trial,  but 
you  must  know  that  I  do  not  for  one  moment 
believe  you  guilty,  or  consider  you  other  than  a 
victim  of  some  terrible  misunderstanding  which 
will  now  be  explained.  If  I  wrote  volumes  I  could 
not  say  more  than  this ;  and  that  I  believe  impli 
citly  that  you  could  never  be  guilty  of  any  dishon 
orable  action." 

Gordon  had  earnestly  wished  to  see  Miss  Ware, 
but  with  the  cloud  of  such  a  serious  charge  hang 
ing  over  him  he  had  shrunk  from  approaching  her. 


BEFORE  THE  COURT  251 

He  supposed  she  was  ignorant  of  his  presence  in 
Washington  and  of  the  unfortunate  affair  which 
had  brought  him  there.  Who  her  informant  had 
been  he  did  not  know,  nor  could  he  guess  just 
what  the  information  was  that  she  had  received ; 
but  the  tone  of  the  letter  disclosed  to  him  such  a 
nobleness  of  soul  in  the  young  girl  that  he  felt  his 
heart  glow  afresh  every  time  he  thought  of  the 
generous  words  she  had  sent  to  him. 

The  day  before  the  court-martial,  as  General 
Ware  was  about  to  leave  his  house  to  go  to  the 
War  Department,  he  had  received  a  call  from  a 
sandy-bearded  young  man  in  a  well-worn  uniform. 
"  General  Ware,"  he  said,  "  I  am  Lieutenant 
Brainard.  I  am  in  Washington  on  official  busi 
ness,  and  I  wish  to  have  a  few  minutes'  conversa 
tion  with  you." 

"  Meet  me  at  my  office  in  half  an  hour,  Lieu 
tenant,"  replied  General  Ware  courteously. 

"  With  your  permission  I  should  like  to  speak 
to  you  now,  and  also  say  a  few  words  to  your 
daughter." 

"  Upon  what  subject,  may  I  inquire  ?  " 

"  Upon  an  official  matter  of  some  importance." 

General  Ware  was  a  man  of  few  words.  Bow 
ing  slightly,  he  sent  a  servant  to  summon  his 
daughter.  She  appeared  almost  immediately. 

"  Marjorie,"  said  the  father,  "  this  is  Lieuten 
ant  Brainard,  who  has  just  come  to  Washington 
from  Vicksburg.  He  has  something  to  say  to 
us." 


252  THE  CLAYBORNES 

Any  one  fresh  from  the  theatre  of  war  excited 
the  utmost  interest. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Lieutenant  Brainard," 
said  Marjorie,  with  a  cordial  ring  to  her  voice. 
Her  heart  beat  rapidly,  for  she  felt  that  some  im 
portant  news  must  be  in  store  for  them. 

"  General  Ware,"  said  Brainard,  looking  closely 
at  the  girl,  "  I  knew  your  son ;  the  resemblance  is 
strong." 

The  general's  immobile  countenance  gave  no 
sign  of  the  emotion  he  felt ;  but  a  look  of  pain 
came  quickly  across  Marjorie's  face.  From  the 
tune  she  had  first  learned  that  Frank  was  missing 
she  had  clung  to  the  hope  that  he  might  be  alive, 
although  a  prisoner ;  but  since  the  fall  of  Vicks- 
burg  the  light  of  that  hope  had  been  fading  fast, 
and  Lieutenant  Brainard's  words  only  reminded 
her  of  the  loss. 

Brainard  saw  the  shade  on  Miss  Ware's  face 
and  went  on  hurriedly  :  — 

"  I  sympathize  with  you  in  your  grief.  I  was  on 
the  River  Queen  when  she  was  captured,  but  I  was 
more  fortunate  than  poor  Francis  Ware.  I  not  only 
escaped,  but  I  am  the  instrument  of  bringing  to  book 
the  man  who  was  responsible  for  the  disaster." 

"  Who  was  responsible  for  it  ?  " 

"  Do  you  not  know  who  commanded  the  expedi 
tion  ?  "  he  asked,  eyeing  her  closely. 

"Captain  Clayborne  commanded  it,  but  I  do 
not  see  how  that  makes  him  responsible  for  the 
disaster,"  she  replied  with  spirit,  although  there 
was  a  tremble  in  her  voice. 


BEFORE  THE  COURT  253 

"  Do  you  know  that  Clayborne  is  to  be  tried  by 
court-martial  ?  " 

"  No  !  I  had  not  .heard  it,"  she  replied,  making 
no  attempt  to  conceal  the  shock  the  news  gave  her. 

"  The  trial  is  to  be  held  to-morrow.  I  have 
come  to  see  you  about  the  case." 

"  What  have  I  to  do  with  it  ?  "  she  asked  in  a 
tone  of  surprise. 

"  You  have  known  Mr.  Clayborne  for  some  time, 
have  you  not  ?  " 

«  Well  ?  " 

"  Have  you  ever  corresponded  with  him  ?  " 

"  I  still  do  not  see  your  reason  for  asking  these 
questions,"  she  replied. 

"  Miss  Ware,  I  want  you  to  tell  me  frankly,  if 
this  Clayborne  was  responsible  for  the  loss  of  the 
River  Queen,  was  responsible  for  the  loss  of  your 
brilliant  brother,  was  guilty  of  treason  to  the 
United  States  government,  would  you  wish  to  see 
him  shielded  ?  Would  you  not  wish  to  have  him 
punished  ?  " 

"  Shield  him  ?  No  !  "  she  cried.  "  I  would  not 
shield  my  own  brother  if  he  were  an  enemy  to  my 
country!  " 

"Now,  Miss  Ware,  while  you  have  been  in 
Washington  has  Mr.  Clayborne  ever  in  any  way 
encouraged  you  to  write  letters  to  him  on  political 
matters  ?  " 

The  color  flew  to  her  cheeks  as  she  exclaimed 
hotly,  "  Lieutenant  Brainard,  do  you  dare 
imply  "  — 


254  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  My  dear  Miss  Ware,  I  insinuate  nothing.  I 
do  not  think  for  a  moment  that  you  would  will 
ingly  lend  yourself  to  any  such  practice,  but  I  do 
know  how  much  a  clever  and  unscrupulous  person 
can  take  advantage  of  a  trustful  and  unsuspecting 
one.  I  do  know  that  you  are  in  a  position  at 
times  to  overhear  things  which  might  be  of  great 
interest  and  value  to  our  enemies.  It  would  have 
been  so  natural  to  put  them  on  paper  when  writing 
an  innocent  letter  to  a  friend.  Now  if  you  have 
any  letters  from  Captain  Clayborne  which  solicited 
such  communications  from  you,  they  might  have  a 
bearing  upon  the  present  case." 

Marjorie  Ware  listened  thoughtfully  until  he 
had  finished,  then  she  replied  calmly :  "  If  Captain 
Clayborne  were  guilty  of  disloyalty  and  treason, 
if  he  had  treacherously  endeavored  to  make  use  of 
my  friendship  in  order  to  obtain  information  and 
betray  it  to  the  enemy,  I  would  use  every  effort  to 
see  him  punished  as  he  deserved." 

"I  knew  you  would  feel  like  this,"  said  Brainard. 

"Yes,  you  might  have  known  that  I  would  feel 
like  this,  Mr.  Brainard ;  and  you  will  be  glad  to 
hear  that  there  was  not  a  line  in  any  of  Mr.  Clay- 
borne's  letters  which  could  lay  him  open  to  such  a 
suspicion." 

Brainard's  face  fell  with  disappointment. 
"  Thank  you,  Miss  Ware,  for  speaking  so  freely ; 
we  have  a  chain  of  evidence  that  the  man  is  a 
traitor.  I  was  in  hopes  that  you  would  be  able  to 
help  strengthen  it." 


BEFORE  THE  COURT  255 

"  I  do  not  believe  that  Mr.  Clayborne  is  a 
traitor,"  the  girl  flashed  out.  "  He  may,  through 
rashness  and  over-daring,  be  responsible  for  the 
loss  of  the  River  Queen,  but  that  does  not  permit 
you  to  call  him  a  traitor  until  he  is  proven  so." 

"  I  stand  corrected,  Miss  Ware,  until  to-mor 
row,"  replied  Brainard  quietly. 

"  I  bid  you  good-day,  sir,"  said  Marjorie  haugh 
tily,  sweeping  from  the  room. 

During  this  dialogue  General  Ware  had  re 
mained  seated,  a  passive  spectator,  with  his  clear 
eyes  fixed  intently  on  both  of  the  speakers. 

When  his  daughter  had  gone  he  addressed  a 
few  questions  to  Brainard.  The  latter  answered 
him  freely  and  a  few  minutes'  earnest  conversation 
ensued. 

"  The  court-martial  is  set  down  for  to-morrow?  " 
inquired  the  general,  as  the  lieutenant  arose  to 
go. 

"  Yes,  sir,  at  ten  o'clock." 

After  Lieutenant  Brainard's  departure  General 
Ware  sought  his  daughter,  and  taking  her  face 
between  his  hands  looked  down  in  her  eyes. 

"  How  many  letters  have  been  exchanged  be 
tween  you  and  this  Captain  Clay  borne  ?  "  he  asked 
abruptly. 

"  A  dozen  or  perhaps  more ;  possibly  twenty," 
was  her  reply,  while  she  answered  his  gaze  unflinch 
ingly. 

"  You  did  not  show  any  of  them  to  me,"  he 
continued  reproachfully. 


256  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  You  knew  I  wrote  to  him,"  she  replied  eva 
sively. 

"  I  knew  one  or  two  letters  had  passed  between 
you.  I  did  not  think  there  was  anything  more 
than  that,"  he  said  with  a  sigh. 

"  There  was  no  concealment  on  my  part,"  Mar- 
jorie  said  quietly. 

Her  father  passed  his  hand  caressingly  over  the 
soft  brown  hair.  "  Were  they  love  letters  ?  "  he 
inquired  gently. 

The  color  came  to  her  cheeks.  "  No,"  she  re 
plied  hesitatingly  —  "  merely  letters  of  friendship." 

"Letters  of  friendship,"  he  repeated,  turning 
abruptly  away. 

"  Captain  Clayborne  has  never  mentioned  love 
to  me,  and  I  am  sure  I  never  have  to  him,"  Mar- 
jorie  said  demurely. 

"  The  man  is  a  villain  !  "  cried  her  father  with 
more  heat  than  he  had  ever  shown  in  his  life. 
"  He  has  made  love  to  my  daughter  surreptitiously ! 
He  has  betrayed  his  trust,  and  is  responsible  for 
the  death  of  my  son !  But  he  has  reached  the  end 
of  his  rope  at  last  and  he  shall  suffer  for  it !  " 

The  blood  left  the  young  woman's  face  and  flew 
to  her  heart.  "  Why  do  you  call  him  a  villain 
before  he  has  been  found  guilty  —  before  you  have 
even  heard  the  testimony  against  him !  "  she  cried 
passionately. 

"  Because  he  has  acted  the  part  of  one,  and  I  be 
lieve  him  guilty  of  the  charge  brought  against  him ! " 
exclaimed  General  Ware  with  equal  warmth ;  "  and 


BEFORE   THE  COURT  257 

whatever  the  result  of  the  trial,  you  must  never 
hold  any  communication  with  that  man  again." 

"  Is  that  your  command  ?  "  asked  Marjorie. 

"It  is  my  earnest  wish,"  said  the  father. 

"  I  do  not  believe  that  he  has  been  guilty  of 
anything  dishonorable,"  said  the  daughter  proudly, 
"  and  until  I  do  I  cannot  be  bound  by  your  wishes." 

"  I  will  hear  the  testimony  at  the  court-martial," 
said  General  Ware  with  more  composure.  "  You 
shall  hear  the  result  from  my  lips.  Now  I  must 
go  to  the  department." 

Marjorie  Ware  went  to  her  own  room,  and  seat 
ing  herself  at  the  table  wrote  a  few  impulsive  lines 
with  nervous  hand. 

Gordon  Clayborne  received  her  note  before  the 
court  convened,  and  with  this  missive  placed  in  his 
breast  pocket  he  was  able  to  look  upon  his  accuser 
with  some  degree  of  composure. 

The  indictment  was  brief  and  explicit.  He  was 
charged :  — 

1.  With  permitting  prisoners  to  escape. 

2.  With  furnishing  information  to  the  enemy. 

3.  With  treason. 

The  man  who  had  instigated  the  charges  was 
William  Brainard.  He  was  actuated  by  no  malice. 
With  regret  he  had  come  to  the  belief  that  Gordon 
Clayborne  was  a  traitor,  and  as  such  he  wished  to 
see  him  punished.  He  wished  to  see  him  made  an 
example  of.  He  wanted  him  put  where  he  could 
do  no  further  injury.  Brainard  was  the  principal 
witness  against  the  accused,  although  his  testimony 


258  THE  CLAYBORNES 

was  corroborated  in  many  details  by  several  of  the 
soldiers  who  were  on  board  the  River  Queen. 

With  a  superb  disregard  of  his  legal  rights, 
Gordon  Clayborne  had  refused  counsel,  and  he  now 
rose  to  speak  in  his  own  defense.  He  addressed 
the  board  in  a  respectful  manner,  yet  there  was  a 
scornful  curl  to  his  lip  as  he  referred  to  the  accusa 
tion  against  him ;  there  was  a  flash  of  indignation 
in  his  dark  eyes  as  he  looked  into  the  face  of 
his  accuser.  He  spoke  throughout  with  calm  self- 
restraint,  yet  the  clear,  musical  cadence  of  his 
voice  filled  the  court-room,  each  word  being  dis 
tinctly  audible  to  all  present. 

"  I  am  accused  of  treason,"  he  began  slowly, 
"  the  gravest  charge  upon  which  a  soldier  can  be 
tried.  I  may  perhaps  be  more  open  to  such  a  sus 
picion  because  of  my  birth.  I  am  a  Virginian." 
There  was  a  proud  ring  in  his  voice  as  he  said 
these  words,  and  a  proud  though  unconscious  lift 
ing  of  the  chin.  "  When  the  war  began  I  held  a 
commission  in  the  United  States  army.  I  deemed 
it  my  duty  to  retain  that  commission.  What  it 
cost  me  to  come  to  that  decision  is  not  of  moment 
here.  I  did  make  it  and  I  have  served  the  flag;  to 

o 

the  best  of  my  ability. 

"  It  is  true  that  I  allowed  one  of  the  prisoners 
to  escape."  Subdued  murmurs  of  excitement  ran 
through  the  court-room.  The  avowal  had  been 
sudden  and  unexpected.  Gordon  looked  about 
him  with  some  surprise.  "  That  part  of  the  accu 
sation  is  perfectly  true;  but,  gentlemen,  it  was 


BEFORE  THE  COURT  259 

with  no  treasonable  designs.  She  was  a  woman," 
he  continued  gently  ;  "  a  woman  who  had  claims 
upon  my  friendship.  I  was  bound  in  honor  to  re 
lease  her."  There  was  a  chivalrous  light  in  his 
eyes  as  he  spoke,  and  he  looked  full  at  General 
Ware.  "  I  was  bound  in  honor  to  release  her,"  he 
went  on  simply, "  but  I  do  not  evade  responsibility 
on  that  account.  Whatever  the  consequences,  I 
should  have  done  it  just  the  same.  For  what  I 
have  done  I  am  willing  to  be  judged  and  punished. 
But  I  am  also  accused  of  betraying  a  transport  of 
troops  and  supplies,  of  setting  fire  to  a  steamer, 
and  running  it  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  This 
is  false  !  "  For  the  only  time  he  raised  his  voice 
till  it  rang  sharply  through  the  room.  Then, 
speaking  in  a  lower  tone,  slowly  and  deliberately 
he  went  on :  "  That  the  River  Queen  was  set  on 
fire  from  within  is  possible.  I  have  my  own  sus 
picions."  Instinctively  he  looked  in  the  direction 
of  General  Ware.  The  old  soldier's  face  was  stern ; 
no  sign  of  sympathy  or  belief  shone  in  those  cold, 
gray  eyes.  Yet  Gordon  hardly  noticed  him ;  he 
seemed  to  see  the  softer  blue  eyes  of  a  young 
woman,  to  hear  her  utter  the  words  of  trust  she 
had  written  him.  The  chivalry  of  his  nature  dom 
inated  him.  He  hesitated  for  a  moment,  then 
turning  towards  the  board.  "  But,  gentlemen,  sus 
picions  have  no  standing  in  a  court  of  law.  There 
has  been  no  evidence  here  to  prove  that  any  one 
destroyed  the  River  Queen.  There  has  been  no 
evidence  to  prove  that  I  was  in  the  service  of  the 


260  THE  CLAYBORNES 

Confederates.  I  demand  an  acquittal  upon  these 
two  charges  ! "  and  with  a  gesture  of  the  hand  as  if 
he  swept  the  accusations  from  him,  he  resumed  his 
seat.  A  hum  of  subdued  but  earnest  conversation 
again  agitated  the  court-room.  Clayborne  looked 
about  him  with  that  outward  calmness  which  pride 
and  spirit  engender,  while  the  board  slowly  rose, 
and  with  dignity  retired  to  consider  its  verdict. 

Gordon  Clayborne  was  right.  There  had  been 
little  evidence  to  prove  him  guilty  of  treason.  But 
although  he  might  be  acquitted  of  the  last  two 
and  most  serious  charges,  would  not  the  board  be 
obliged  to  find  him  guilty  upon  his  own  admission 
of  having  allowed  a  prisoner  to  escape  ? 

Doubts  even  as  to  his  innocence  on  the  last  two 
counts  were  entertained  by  some  of  the  members 
of  the  board,  and  this  uncertainty  in  their  minds 
caused  the  debate  to  be  long  and  earnest. 

Gordon  had  been  sent  under  guard  to  his  hotel, 
to  await  the  result  of  the  verdict.  If  he  were  found 
guilty,  the  sentence  would  be  severe.  Proud  by 
nature,  he  shrank  from  going  into  the  street  and 
through  the  hotel  lobby.  Yet  as  he  did  so,  none 
of  those  who  elbowed  him  in  the  crowd  held  their 
heads  higher,  or  walked  the  thoroughfare  with  a 
greater  appearance  of  indifference.  For  two  hours 
Clayborne  remained  thus ;  in  deep  and  bitter  re 
flection,  dwelling  upon  the  mistakes,  the  injustices, 
and  the  misfortunes  of  his  career,  until  he  finally 
reached  that  recklessness  of  mood  which  is  partic 
ularly  dangerous  for  men  of  his  temperament. 


BEFORE  THE  COURT  261 

The  guard  entered  the  room.  "  A  gentleman 
has  permission  to  see  you,  sir." 

"  I  wish  to  see  nobody,"  replied  Clayborne 
peremptorily. 

The  man  said  nothing,  but  dropped  a  card  upon 
the  table  and  retired. 

A  few  moments  later  Gordon  picked  up  the  bit 
of  pasteboard,  read  it,  thrust  it  into  his  pocket ; 
then  rising  suddenly  from  his  chair,  he  went  to 
wards  the  bell-rope.  Before  he  had  an  opportunity 
to  ring,  the  door  swung  open,  and  Benjamin  Ches 
terfield  walked  breezily  into  the  room. 

"  I  received  your  message,  so  I  came  up,"  he 
laughed,  holding  out  his  hand. 

A  faint  flush  came  to  Gordon's  face.  "  I  know 
it  was  absurd  of  me,  and  I  was  just  going  to  send 
for  you  after  reading  the  name  on  the  card,"  he 
answered,  taking  the  proffered  hand.  "  I  suppose 
I  must  get  used  to  seeing  people,  but  it  comes  hard 
at  present." 

"  Well,  this  comes  of  being  taken  in  by  a  wo 
man,"  said  Chesterfield  with  great  cheerfulness, 
taking  a  seat  on  the  end  of  the  bed. 

Clayborne  made  no  answer. 

"  You  had  a  fine  career,  and  now  it  is  ruined, 
and  for  what  ?  for  a  woman  who  used  you  just  as 
she  would  use  an  umbrella,  —  to  get  in  out  of  the 
rain." 

Gordon  scowled  grimly.  "  I  was  bound  in  honor, 
Chesterfield,  to  act  as  I  did,  and  by  Heaven  I  would 
do  it  again,  though  I  ruined  a  dozen  careers.  I 


262  THE  CLAYBORNES 

did  not  think  that  you  were  the  kind  of  man  to 
strike  another  when  he  is  down,"  he  added  re 
proachfully.  Chesterfield  shot  him  a  quick  glance 
from  under  his  heavy  eyebrows. 

"  Neither  am  I,  Clayborne.  That  was  only  my 
way  of  showing  my  sympathy." 

"  I  wish  you  would  show  it  in  some  other  way, 
then,"  retorted  Gordon. 

Chesterfield  rang  the  bell.  "  Bring  up  two 
mint  juleps,"  he  ordered  the  attendant,  and  the 
darky  disappeared  quickly  to  do  his  bidding. 

Chesterfield  threw  a  long  leg  over  the  footboard. 
The  day  was  warm.  Clayborne  took  off  his  coat 
and  waistcoat,  and,  sitting  astride  a  chair,  faced 
him.  Neither  spoke  for  a  few  moments.  Chester 
field  swung  one  large  foot  lazily,  while  Gordon 
drummed  with  his  fingers  on  the  chair-back. 

The  darky  arrived  with  the  iced  drink  clinking 
in  the  glasses.  Chesterfield  drew  up  the  table,  and 
both  men  took  a  deep  draught. 

"  Clayborne,"  began  the  newspaper  correspond 
ent  when  they  were  alone  once  more,  "there  is 
something  I  very  much  want  to  know."  A  mo 
ment's  silence  followed.  Chesterfield  resumed  his 
easy  position  upon  the  bed.  "  I  hesitate  to  pry 
into  any  man's  affairs,  but  there  is  one  question 
I  want  to  ask  you." 

"  You  have  my  permission  to  ask  it,"  replied 
Clayborne  courteously. 

"  I  have  not  known  you  for  such  a  very  long  pe 
riod,  but  my  friendship  for  you  is  sincere.  I  desire 


BEFORE  THE  COURT  263 

your  confidence  for  your  own  sake.     You  may  of 
course  withhold  it  if  you  see  fit,"  Chesterfield  went 
on  with  an  engaging  frankness  of  manner. 
i      Clayborne  looked  at  him  inquiringly. 

"  Dash  it  all,  man,  I  '11  come  to  the  point  at 
once  !  "  cried  the  newspaper  correspondent,  rising 
to  his  feet.  "  Are  you  in  love  with  Flora  Dowd 
—  Regina  Bowie,  or  whatever  her  name  is  ?  Are 
you  infatuated  with  her  ?  " 

Gordon  looked  at  his  friend  for  a  few  moments 
in  silence. 

"  No,"  he  answered  quietly.     "  I  am  not." 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  ?  "  exclaimed  Chesterfield, 
taking  the  other  man  by  the  arm. 

"  I  am  sure,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Thank  Heaven,"  was  the  pious  ejaculation  of 
the  bearded  newspaper  man,  and  he  drew  a  docu 
ment  from  his  pocket.  "  Clayborne,"  he  said 
slowly,  "  I  have  here  an  order  for  the  dismissal  of 
the  charge  against  you,  and  for  your  reinstatement 
in  the  army  with  your  old  rank,  but  I  did  not  feel 
that  I  could  give  it  to  you  until  I  was  positive  that 
you  were  in  no  way  infatuated  with  the  woman 
whom  you  allowed  to  escape." 

Clayborne  felt  his  heart  leap  as  the  paper  touched 
his  hand. 

"  Chesterfield,  I  always  knew  you  for  a  true- 
hearted  gentleman,  but  I  could  not  expect  such  a 
service  even  from  you.  How  did  you  obtain  it  ?  " 
was  all  he  said. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

LOVE   AND    DOUBT 

BENJAMIN  CHESTERFIELD  was  a  man  who  would 
have  moved  the  earth  for  a  friend.  He  was  the 
kind  of  man  who  would  travel  to  the  end  of  the 
world  on  a  service  of  friendship,  and  never  give 
the  matter  of  his  own  comfort  or  convenience  a 
thought. 

So  he  had  hastened  to  Washington  on  behalf  of 
Clayborne.  After  some  delay  he  had  succeeded  hi 
gaining  the  ear  of  the  President,  had  presented  a 
letter  from  General  Grant,  and  had  supplemented 
this  so  eloquently  with  his  own  arguments  as 
finally  to  obtain  from  the  generous  chief  magistrate 
a  pardon  to  be  availed  of  at  the  discretion  of  the 
correspondent  himself.  "  For,"  reasoned  Chester 
field,  "if  Clayborne  is  still  infatuated  with  that 
woman  it  would  be  useless  to  trust  him,  and  I 
shall  regretfully  let  him  go  to  perdition." 

But  Chesterfield  found  his  friend  sound  in  mind ; 
he  saw  that  he  was  still  worthy  of  trust ;  and  Gor 
don  Clayborne  was  able  to  walk  out  of  the  hotel  a 
new  man. 

The  world  is  very  young  and  fair  at  twenty-five, 
and  Gordon  Clayborne's  spirits  were  light  as  air 


LOVE  AND   DOUBT  265 

as  he  walked  up  Pennsylvania  Avenue.  The  day 
was  hot  and  stifling,  hospital  ambulances  heavy 
with  the  suffering  wounded  rattled  through  the 
streets.  Care-worn  faces  passed  him  at  every 
turn,  —  the  anxious  statesman,  the  crippled  sol 
dier,  the  bereaved  widow,  all  carrying  their  share 
of  the  burden  of  the  times.  Yet  vigorous  youth 
noted  none  of  these.  He  saw  a  blue-eyed  child 
smiling  in  the  sunlight.  He  saw  a  pretty  girl  on 
the  doorstep  of  a  shop,  and  smiled  at  her,  too,  as  he 
passed  jauntily  by.  She  returned  the  greeting, 
for  it  must  have  been  a  straight-laced  one  indeed 
who  would  not  unbend  a  little  from  her  maidenly 
reserve  at  a  debonair  glance  from  Gordon  Claj- 
borne's  eye.  He  heard  the  merry  laugh  of  some 
children  at  their  play,  and  the  more  boisterous 
notes  of  soldiers  drinking  at  a  bar.  He  heard  and 
saw  the  lighter  side  of  life  ;  the  dark  and  serious 
touched  him  not,  for  the  blood  of  youth  was  warm 
within  him.  Clayborne  was  going  back  to  the 
field,  but  before  he  went  he  had  one  mission  of 
high  importance  to  fulfil.  It  was  doubtless  the 
thought  of  this  which  gave  an  added  elasticity  to 
his  step  and  a  brilliancy  to  his  eye  as  he  walked 
briskly  up  H  street  and  stopped  before  a  neat- 
looking  brick  house. 

Marjorie  Ware  was  preparing  to  go  to  the  hos 
pital.  She  had  just  donned  the  plain  and  trim 
attire  of  a  nurse  and  stood  before  the  glass  to  put 
on  her  bonnet,  when  Gordon  Clayborne's  name 
was  brought  up  to  her.  Her  hands  trembled  as 


266  THE  CLAYBORNES 

they  tied  the  strings  of  her  bonnet  under  her  chin. 
For  a  few  moments  she  stood  debating  what  course 
of  action  she  should  follow.  Her  father  had  told 
her  all  that  had  taken  place  at  the  court-martial. 
He  had  repeated  to  her,  in  his  quiet,  passionless 
manner,  the  charge,  the  testimony,  the  confession. 
She  had  heard  him  with  bewilderment  and  awe. 
His  deliberate  statements  carried  conviction  with 
them.  She  knew  her  father  must  speak  the  truth, 
and  although  in  her  heart  she  tried  to  doubt  him, 
she  could  not.  And  if  her  father's  words  were 
true,  how  could  Gordon  Clayborne  be  worthy  of 
any  consideration?  She  resolved  that  she  must 
never  communicate  with  him  again.  She  regretted 
the  impulsive  letter  which  she  had  sent  him.  She 
tried  to  banish  him  from  her  mind  twenty  times 
that  day,  and  thought  she  would  never  see  him 
again,  and  now  he  was  in  the  house  waiting  to  see 
her.  The  announcement  came  to  her  with  a  shock. 
Her  first  impulse  was  to  refuse  to  see  him.  Mean 
while  Gordon,  in  the  little  sitting-room  below, 
awaited  the  appearance  of  the  lady,  his  ear  alert 
for  her  step  upon  the  stairs,  and  at  every  sound 
that  reached  him  his  eyes  were  raised  expectantly 
towards  the  door.  The  possibility  that  she  would 
not  come  did  not  occur  to  him. 

Marjorie  came  swiftly  downstairs.  She  was  due 
at  the  hospital  in  a  few  minutes,  and  the  thought 
came  to  her  that  she  could  pass  out  of  the  front 
door  and  hurry  down  the  street  to  her  work,  thus 
avoiding  Clayborne ;  but  when  she  reached  the  issue 


LOVE  AND  DOUBT  267 

she  was  unable  to  resist  the  strong  impulse  which 
seemed  to  force  her  to  turn  and  enter  the  sitting- 
room.  She  stood  for  a  moment  on  the  threshold, 
surveying  him  with  an  expression  of  great  sadness 
in  her  eyes.  Gordon  came  swiftly  across  the  room 
and  took  her  by  the  hand,  saying,  "  Miss  Ware,  I 
thank  you  most  deeply  for  the  letter  you  sent  me. 
It  reached  me  at  a  time  when  life  seemed  darkest." 

She  gave  his  face  a  searching  look  of  inquiry, 
at  the  same  time  trying  to  withdraw  her  hand. 
He  led  her  to  a  chair,  and  sat  down  near  her. 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  she  said  coldly. 

"  Why,  little  comrade,  you  stood  by  me  nobly 
when  everything  seemed  to  be  going  against  me. 
Do  you  know,"  he  continued  radiantly,  "  for  a 
time,  before  I  heard  from  you,  I  feared  that  you 
thought  me  guilty  of  the  charge  of  treason." 

"  Are  you  quite  innocent  ?  "  Marjorie  burst  out 
suddenly. 

His  eyes  flashed  at  her  in  surprise.  "If  you 
doubted  me  why  did  you  write  me  that  letter  ?  " 
he  inquired  sternly. 

"  Because  I  did  believe  in  you  then,"  she  said 
sadly. 

"  Little  comrade,  you  must  believe  in  me 
always." 

"  You  must  not  call  me  by  that  name,"  she  said 
with  quiet  firmness. 

"  It  was  understood  that  as  long  as  the  war 
lasted  you  were  to  be  my  little  comrade,"  he  con 
tinued  gently,  "  and  that  after  the  war  "  — 


268  THE  CLAYBORNES 

She  interrupted  him  suddenly.  "  Tell  me  first 
that  the  accusation  against  you  was  untrue.  Tell 
me  that  you  had  some  strong  reason  for  not  deny 
ing  an  unjust  charge.  Tell  me  this  with  your  own 
lips  and  I  will  believe  you." 

"  On  my  honor  I  am  guiltless  of  all  conspiracy 
against  the  government,"  he  said  earnestly. 

"  Of  all  conspiracy  against  the  government." 
She  repeated  the  words  as  if  to  get  their  full 
meaning. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  I  want  you  to  believe  that. 
I  want  you  to  trust  me.  During  all  this  past  year 
your  letters  and  the  thought  of  you  have  been  my 
inspiration,  my  star.  I  would  rather  lose  the  trust 
of  the  whole  world  than  yours." 

"  When  you  speak  like  that  it  is  hard  to  doubt 
you,  but  I  must  understand  you  absolutely.  Is  it 
true  that  you  allowed  that  woman,  that  Flora 
Dowd,  to  escape  ?  If  you  tell  me  that  you  did  not 
allow  her  to  go  free,  but  for  some  reason,  known 
only  to  yourself,  you  did  not  deny  a  false  accu 
sation,  I  shall  believe  you."  She  spoke  almost 
imploringly. 

He  hesitated  for  a  moment,  then  said  quietly, 
"  I  alone  am  responsible  for  her  escape." 

"  You  allowed  a  prisoner  to  escape !  "  she  ex 
claimed,  "  and  yet  you  ask  me  to  believe  in  you  ?  " 

"  I  let  a  woman  go  free,"  he  assented. 

"  You  liberated  a  spy  —  a  person  who  had  been 
working  injury  to  the  Union,  a  scheming,  intrigu 
ing  spy  —  and  yet  you  ask  me  to  trust  you." 


LOVE  AND   DOUBT  269 

"You  must  remember  she  was  a  woman,"  he 
repeated.  "  I  alone  stood  between  her  and  her 
freedom.  I  could  not  hold  her  a  prisoner." 

"Mr.  Clayborne,"  said  Marjorie,  "I  had  a 
brother  on  the  River  Queen.  He  lost  his  life 
while  at  his  post." 

Gordon  winced,  but  looked  into  her  face  ear 
nestly,  attempting  to  offer  no  explanation. 

The  tears  were  in  Marjprie's  eyes.  "  Although 
I  weep  for  him,"  she  said  mournfully,  "  the  know 
ledge  that  he  died  bravely,  in  the  defense  of  the 
flag,  is  a  great  balm  to  my  grief." 

"  Miss  Ware,"  said  Gordon  quietly,  "  because  I 
came  safely  through  the  River  Queen  disaster  you 
should  not  impugn  my  courage.  Death  does  not 
always  come  to  those  who  seek  it." 

"  I  have  never  doubted  your  courage,  Captain 
Clayborne,  never,  but,"  • 

"  But  you  doubt  me  —  you  have  said  so." 

"  On  your  own  admission  you  stand  convicted 
of  one  breach  of  trust,"  she  exclaimed  with  a  catch 
in  her  voice.  "  How  am  I  to  be  sure  you  are  not 
guilty  of  another  ?  " 

"  You  do  not  believe  that  I  betrayed  the  River 
Queen  ?  "  he  cried  vehemently  ;  "  you  do  not  hold 
me  responsible  for  your  brother's"  —  he  hesitated, 
then  ended  quietly,  "  death  ?  " 

"  No  —  no,"  she  protested.  "  I  accuse  you  of 
nothing.  I  only  say  I  am  in  doubt,  in  terrible 
doubt  "- 

"  You  shall  doubt  me  no  longer!  "  he  cried  pas- 


270  THE  CLAYBORNES 

sionately.  "  You  have  written  me  that  you  believe 
in  me,  and  I  shall  hold  you  to  that.  I  swear  to 
you  that  I  did  my  best  to  bring  the  River  Queen 
past  the  batteries.  Fate  was  against  me,  and  I 
failed.  I  swear  to  you  that  I  tried  in  vain  to  save 
your  brother  "  — 

"  To  save  my  brother  —  how?  "  she  cried. 

Gordon  looked  searchingly  into  her  eyes.  He 
recalled  the  words  she  had  spoken  but  the  moment 
before  about  her  brother,  and  shook  his  head  sadly. 
"It  was  in  vain.  Fate  was  against  me.  Miss 
Ware,"  Gordon  continued,  "  I  am  going  away  — 
I  have  been  reinstated,  and  am  going  back  to  the 
army.  If  I  live  I  shall  certainly  find  you  again, 
but  the  uncertainties  of  war  are  such  that  it  is 
not  bombast  on  my  part  to  say  that  we  may  never 
meet  again.  Before  I  go  I  want  to  feel  that  I 
stand  in  your  esteem  where  I  stood  before.  I  want 
you  to  agree  to  write  me  just  as  you  have  done  in 
the  past." 

"  You  are  asking  too  much,"  Marjorie  replied. 
"  I  cannot." 

"  Why  can't  you  ?  " 

"  Because  in  the  past  I  had  such  confidence  in 
you.  I  believed  in  you  so  completely.  I  felt  such 
a  sincere  friendship  for  you,  that  I  wrote  you  with 
great  unreserve.  I  can  never  do  so  again." 

"  Won't  you  please  try  ?  "  he  pleaded. 

"  It  would  be  useless,  Captain  Clayborne.  The 
element  of  doubt  would  always  exist  in  my  mind  ; 
it  would  stand  a  barrier  between  us." 


LOVE  AND  DOUBT  271 

"  Put  aside  that  doubt,"  he  said  fervently.  "  I 
would  rather  have  you  believe  in  me  —  I  would 
rather  have  your  trust  than  that  of  the  whole 
world  beside." 

"  I  would  give  much  to  be  able  to  drive  the 
doubt  away,"  she  replied  truthfully,  "  but  there 
is  so  much  I  cannot  understand  about  you." 

She  turned  towards  him  with  an  expression  of 
great  earnestness  on  her  sweet  face.  Although 
dressed  in  the  plain  garb  of  a  nurse,  she  looked 
prettier  than  ever  in  Gordon's  eyes,  with  the  color 
of  excitement  in  her  cheeks,  and  her  soft  golden- 
brown  hair  tucked  back  under  her  bonnet,  whose 
strings  had  been  hastily  tied  into  rather  a  coquet 
tish  bow  under  her  white  chin. 

"  Marjorie,"  cried  Gordon  impetuously,  "  for 
months  I  have  cherished  your  regard  as  the  dear 
est  object  of  my  heart."  Again  he  took  her  hand. 
She  tried  to  withdraw  it,  but  he  held  it  firmly,  say 
ing,  "  I  knew  I  should  tell  you  some  day.  I 
thought  it  would  be  after  the  war,  but  I  must  tell 
you  now  —  I  love  you  " 

"  I  beg  of  you,  do  not  tell  me  that  now,"  she 
pleaded,  struggling  in  vain  to  take  away  the  hand. 

"  I  have  long  known  that  I  loved  you,"  he  went 
on  passionately ;  "  when  I  received  your  letter 
I  knew  that  I  adored  you." 

Marjorie  tore  her  hand  free,  and  rising  to  her 
feet  stood  before  him. 

"  Why  do  you  tell  me  this  ? "  she  cried  vehe 
mently. 


272  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  Because  it  is  the  truth,  Marjorie,"  he  said. 
"You  must  have  known  it  in  your  secret  heart 
for  a  long  time." 

"  I  do  not  know  it,"  she  exclaimed  with  agita 
tion. 

"  Yes,  you  do,  Marjorie.  You  are  too  truthful 
to  stoop  to  such  prevarication.  You  cannot  look 
at  me  and  say  you  did  not  know  I  loved  you.  You 
cannot  look  straight  at  me  with  those  frank,  clear 
eyes  of  yours  and  say  you  do  not  care  for  me." 

Marjorie  hesitated,  then  burst  forth  impetu 
ously  :  "  No,  I  do  not  understand  you.  At  one 
time  I  did  think  you  cared  for  me,  and  I  held 
you  in  very  high  regard.  I  will  not  deny  it  even 
now,  for  it  was  true." 

"  I  have  not  lost  that  regard  yet,  Miss  Ware, 
and  I  intend  to  keep  it,"  said  Gordon  gently. 

"  Where  confidence  is  shaken  regard  cannot  re 
main,  Captain  Clayborne,"  said  Marjorie  seriously. 

"  You  say  you  do  not  understand  me,  Marjorie. 
Cannot  you  understand  me  when  I  say  I  love 
you  ?  "  He  uttered  the  words  quietly,  but  there 
was  a  convincing  earnestness  in  his  manner  that 
could  not  fail  to  have  its  effect  upon  the  young 
girl. 

She  looked  into  his  eyes,  saying  in  her  straight 
forward  way,  "  I  do  not  understand  you,  because 
you  have  been  accused  of  permitting  this  Flora 
Dowd  to  escape,  and  you  admit  that  it  is  true." 

"  It  is  true,  Marjorie,  but  I  love  you.  That  is 
not  difficult  to  understand." 


LOVE  AND  DOUBT  273 

She  hesitated  for  an  instant,  then  spoke  rapidly : 
"  They  testified  that  you  made  love  to  her.  They 
implied  that  there  was  —  that  there  was  an  affec 
tionate  understanding  between  you.  Is  that  true  ?  " 

*It  is  not  true." 

"  Will  you  tell  me  that  you  have  never  made 
love  to  her?"  she  asked  with  almost  a  note  of 
entreaty  in  her  voice.  "  Tell  me  this,  on  your 
honor,  Mr.  Clayborne,  and  I  will  believe  you." 

"  Why  do  you  ask  me  this  ?  "  he  cried  passion 
ately.  "It  is  you  I  love,  and  you  only." 

She  stood  by  the  table  —  one  hand  nervously 
opening  and  closing  a  book  that  lay  there.  Her 
face  was  pale.  She  looked  at  him  as  she  tried  to 
read  his  inmost  thoughts. 

"  It  is  just  that  which  I  cannot  understand," 
she  replied.  "  If  you  have  never  made  love  to  her 
you  would  not  hesitate.  It  would  be  so  easy  to 
answer  me." 

"  I  will  repeat  that  I  love  you,  Marjorie,  and 
you  only,"  he  cried  ardently,  seizing  the  fingers 
that  were  tremblingly  fluttering  the  pages  of  the 
book,  and  pressing  them  to  his  lips. 

"  You  made  love  to  her,  and  now  you  make  love 
to  me,"  she  exclaimed  scornfully.  She  did  not  try 
to  free  her  hand  from  his,  but  stood  passionless. 

"  My  dear  little  girl,"  he  whispered  tenderly, 
"  do  you  not  know  it  was  before  I  ever  saw  you  ? 
Will  you  not  believe  that  I  love  you  devotedly, 
that  I  adore  you  with  all  my  soul  ?  My  love  for 
you  is  my  religion  —  it  can  never  change.  Can- 


274  THE   CLAYBORNES 

not  you  feel  that  I  speak  the  truth  ?  Can 't  you 
believe  me  ?  " 

"  I  believe  in  nothing,"  she  exclaimed  bitterly. 

"  You  shall  believe  in  me,"  Gordon  said  ear 
nestly. 

The  door  opened,  and  General  Ware  entered 
the  room.  His  keen  gray  eyes  looked  from  his 
daughter  to  Gordon  searchingly,  but  his  immobile 
face  gave  no  sign  of  emotion  or  surprise.  With 
out  noticing  Marjorie's  agitation,  he  bowed  stiffly 
to  Gordon,  saying,  "Allow  me  to  congratulate  you, 
Captain  Clayborne,  upon  your  prompt  reinstate 
ment  in  the  army.  When  do  you  start  for  the 
West?" 

Gordon  recovered  himself  immediately,  and  re 
plied  with  easy  grace,  "  Thank  you,  General  Ware. 
I  have  been  transferred  to  the  Army  of  the  Poto 
mac.  I  expect  to  start  to-morrow  morning. " 

The  general  bowed  once  more.  "  In  case  I  do 
not  see  you  again  let  me  wish  you  good-by,"  he 
said,  giving  Clayborne  a  cold,  expressionless  hand. 

"  Again  I  thank  you,  General  Ware,"  replied 
Gordon  cordially.  Then  turning  toward  Marjorie 
he  said,  "  I  shall  not  say  good-by  to  you,  Miss 
Ware',  because  I  shall  hope  to  see  you  again  before 
I  go." 

Marjorie  did  not  answer. 

The  general  did  not  speak. 

"  I  shall  go  early  to-morrow  morning,  but  I  shall 
call  to  see  you  this  evening,"  Gordon  said  in  a  low 
voice.  "  Do  not  refuse  to  see  me." 


LOVE  AND   DOUBT  275 

There  was  nothing  for  him  to  do  but  to  take  his 
leave,  which  he  did  politely.  Outside  the  front 
door  he  found,  to  his  surprise,  that  he  was  carry 
ing  the  little  volume  which  Marjorie  had  been 
holding.  He  stood  for  a  moment  looking  down 
the  street,  which  lay  quiet  under  the  hot  noonday 
sun  ;  then  he  put  the  book  into  his  pocket  and 
walked  slowly  away. 

In  the  little  sitting-room  General  Ware  went 
up  to  his  daughter,  and  with  a  tenderness  no  one 
would  have  believed  was  in  him  kissed  her  on  the 
forehead. 

That  evening  Clayborne  dined  with  Chesterfield 
at  the  hotel.  He  was  apparently  in  high  spirits, 
talking  and  laughing  continually ;  but  he  never  for 
a  moment  lost  count  of  the  minutes,  and  no  sooner 
did  the  hands  of  the  clock  point  to  half  past  seven 
than  he  bade  his  friend  good-night,  jumped  into  a 
carriage,  and  was  driven  rapidly  to  H  Street. 

,  The  house  was  dark,  and  when  the  door  opened 
Gordon  saw  with  some  misgiving  that  the  light  in 
the  hallway  was  turned  low  and  a  lamp  burned 
dimly  in  the  sitting-room  where  he  had  stood  a 
few  hours  before.  Gordon  did  not  remain  long  in 
doubt.  The  colored  servant  who  answered  his  ring 
told  him  that  Miss  Ware  had  gone  away  in  a  car 
riage  with  her  father  before  dinner,  and  he  did  not 
know  when  they  would  return. 

Gordon  looked  at  the  man  closely  and  saw  he 
was  telling  only  half  the  truth.  He  understood 
the  race  perfectly.  In  two  minutes  he  learned  all 


276  THE   CLAYBORNES 

the  darky  had  to  tell.  It  was  meagre  enough. 
He  had  overheard  General  Ware  tell  Miss  Eliza 
beth  that  they  would  be  back  about  ten. 

"  Who  was  Miss  Elizabeth  ?  " 

"  General  Ware's  sister." 

"  Was  Miss  Elizabeth  at  home  ?  " 

Miss  Elizabeth  was  at  home ;  she  appeared  at 
this  moment  upon  the  scene.  Gordon  gave  her 
one  quick  glance  and  saw  that  any  hope  in  that 
direction  was  out  of  the  question. 

The  general  himself  might  have  stood  before 
him,  —  the  same  keen  gray  eye,  the  same  stern 
face  with  tightly  compressed  lips.  Tall,  angular, 
uncompromising,  Miss  Elizabeth  took  Gordon  in 
at  a  glance,  then  without  addressing  him  spoke  to 
the  negro.  "  David,  if  the  gentleman  has  been 
answered,  close  the  door.  The  night  air  affects 
my  throat." 

"  In  what  direction  did  their  carriage  go  ? " 
Gordon  asked  in  a  low  voice,  slipping  a  coin  into 
David's  hand. 

"  Eh,  what  ?  "  ejaculated  Miss  Elizabeth,  prick 
ing  up  her  ears.  "  David,  shut  the  door  at  once. 
We  can  have  no  inquisitives  prying  here." 

The  darky  rolled  his  eyes  and  pointed  north. 
The  door  closed  and  left  Gordon  on  the  step. 

"  Sour  old  maid !  "  he  muttered  to  himself, 
going  slowly  down  the  steps. 

"As  nice  appearing  young  man  as  ever  was. 
What  a  pity  things  can't  be  as  they  ought  to  be," 
murmured  Miss  Elizabeth  on  her  side  of  the  door, 


LOVE  AND   DOUBT  277 

as  she  retired  to  her  bedroom  to  await  her  brother's 
return.  She  was  devoted  to  him  and  his  interests, 
and  she  sat  for  some  minutes  thinking  over  the 
recent  episode. 

"  Where  shall  I  drive  you  to,  sir  ?  "  asked  the 
cabman  as  Gordon  stood  meditating  on  the  curb. 

"  Down  the  street  slowly,"  was  the  reply,  as  he 
got  into  the  vehicle. 

Here  he  busied  himself  in  thought.  In  the  cor 
respondence  which  had  passed  between  Mai-jorie 
and  him,  she  had  told  him  many  details  of  her 
daily  life.  He  had  heard  of  her  dining  at  the 
homes  of  a  number  of  friends.  He  tried  to  recall 
some  of  their  names  to  his  mind.  To  his  intense 
chagrin  he  could  think  of  only  one.  It  was  one 
which  had  been  repeated  several  times.  There 
was  a  slight  chance  that  the  Wares  were  to-night 
dining  with  this  friend.  Clayborne  was  a  man  to 
let  no  chance  slip  by  him.  He  went  to  a  hotel, 
hurriedly  consulted  a  directory,  and  then  was 
driven  rapidly  to Street. 

Clayborne  was  right  in  his  guess.  The  Wares 
had  dined  at  the  house  of  Mrs.  Worthington.  As 
the  front  door  opened,  Gordon  heard  the  mea 
sured  tones  of  the  general's  voice  coming  from 
the  drawing-room.  Through  a  half-opened  door 
Gordon  caught  the  glint  of  an  evening  dress,  as 
a  woman  passed  across  the  room.  He  thought  it 
was  Marjorie. 

To  him  the  most  important  thing  in  the  world 
at  that  crisis  in  his  affair  was  to  see  her  alone. 


278  THE  CLAYBORNES 

He  was  unacquainted  with  Mrs.  Worthington ;  the 
general  was  antagonistic  ;  he  was  uncertain  as  to 
Marjorie's  own  state  of  mind  towards  him.  It 
was  that  very  uncertainty  which  lent  a  desperation 
to  the  situation,  and  he  was  resolved  to  obtain  a 
private  interview  with  the  young  lady  if  it  could 
be  accomplished  by  strategy.  To  have  his  name 
announced  would  perhaps  have  been  more  intrepid, 
but  it  would  certainly  have  defeated  the  object  of 
his  desire.  He  could  think  of  but  one  course  to  pur 
sue  ;  it  was  to  excite  the  interest  and  sympathy  of 
the  lady  of  the  house,  and  throw  himself  upon  her 
mercy.  He  felt  in  his  pocket  and  drew  out  a  card 
which  bore  Chesterfield's  name,  and  giving  it  to 
the  colored  servant,  requested  him  to  take  it  to  his 
mistress,  stepped  into  the  reception  room  upon  the 
other  side  of  the  hall,  and  coolly  waited  the  result. 
This  was  not  only  carrying  the  war  into  the  ene 
my's  country,  it  was  attempting  to  corrupt  the 
allies  of  the  opponent ;  but  if  ever  the  end  justifies 
the  means  it  is  in  affairs  of  love.  Mrs.  Worth 
ington  came  into  the  room  with  a  look  of  inquiry 
upon  her  face.  This  look  deepened  to  one  of  sur 
prise  as  the  unknown  gentleman  closed  the  door 
and  told  her  who  he  was  and  what  he  wanted. 

As  soon  as  he  caught  sight  of  Mrs.  Worthing- 
ton's  wholesome,  kindly  face,  Gordon  felt  his  self- 
assurance  return  ;  but  it  was  no  easy  task  to  which 
he  had  set  himself,  however.  For  fifteen  minutes 
he  pleaded  earnestly.  Mrs.  Worthington  was  loyal 
to  her  friend,  the  general ;  but  there  are  two  ways 


LOVE  AND   DOUBT  279 

of  looking  at  all  matters  of  this  kind,  and  it  may 
be  taken  for  granted  that  Gordon's  case  did  not 
suffer  in  his  presentation  of  it.  The  man  who 
cannot  plead  eloquently  under  such  circumstances 
must  expect  to  lose. 

But  if  Gordon  Clayborne  was  a  man  of  resource 
and  persistence,  the  general  was  an  old  campaigner. 
He  thought  that  in  taking  his  daughter  out  to  dine 
he  could  avoid  a  visit  from  Clayborne,  which  to 
the  general,  at  least,  would  not  be  welcome ;  but 
like  the  wary  general  he  was,  wishing  to  keep  him 
self  informed  as  to  the  movements  of  his  enemy, 
he  had  left  instructions  with  his  sister  that  if 
Clayborne  came  to  the  house  and  showed  an  incli 
nation  to  return  or  any  inquisitiveness  as  to  their 
whereabouts,  he,  General  Ware,  was  to  be  informed. 
Perhaps  all  these  precautions  were  unnecessary, 
for  Marjorie  herself  had  resolved  not  to  see  Gordon 
a  second  time  ;  but  then  again  the  experienced 
know  that  the  strongest  resolutions  are  sometimes 
overcome  by  persistence.  The  general  had  resolved 
to  take  no  risks. 

In  this  case  the  old  soldier  proved  himself  an 
able  tactician,  and  his  sister  showed  herself  a 
worthy  lieutenant.  After  sitting  quietly  in  thought 
for  some  minutes,  she  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
if  her  brother  were  informed  of  the  fact  that  the 
wolf  had  appeared,  her  own  mind  would  be  easier ; 
so  she  put  on  her  shawl,  tied  her  bonnet  strings 
firmly  under  her  chin,  took  an  alpaca  umbrella  in 
her  hand  as  an  effective  weapon  of  defense  against 


280  THE  CLAYBORNES 

night  prowlers,  and  set  out  to  put  the  general  on 
his  guard. 

Imagine  the  good  woman's  apprehension  when, 
upon  approaching  Mrs.  Worthington's  house,  she 
saw  the  cause  of  her  present  nocturnal  adventure 
standing  calmly  before  the  door,  waiting  for  it  to 
be  opened,  as  naturally  ^,s  if  he  were  expected.  A 
few  minutes  later  Miss  Elizabeth  was  also  inside 
the  house,  and  in  earnest  conversation  with  her 
brother. 

How  slight  a  word  can  throw  a  man  from  the 
height  of  expectancy  to  the  depths  of  dejection  ! 
Clayborne  had  won  Mrs.  Worthington  over  to  his 
side.  He  had  shown  her  how  entirely  dependent 
upon  her  generous  assistance  were  his  life's  hap 
piness,  and  without  doubt  the  happiness  of  one 
whose  welfare  was  of  still  greater  concern  to  him. 
Together  they  had  agreed  how  a  private  interview 
between  Marjorie  and  himself  could  be  arranged. 
The  kind-hearted  woman  had  left  him  alone  for  a 
few  moments,  during  which  he  collected  himself 
for  the  meeting,  and  marshaled  all  his  arguments, 
while  his  pulse  beat  high. 

Mrs.  Worthington  returned  with  the  grave  an 
nouncement  that  the  general  had  suddenly  been 
summoned  home,  and  that  at  this  moment  he  and 
his  daughter  were  waiting  in  the  hall  to  bid  their 
hostess  good-night.  It  was  a  stunning  blow  for 
Gordon.  Although  his  heart  was  like  lead,  he  did 
not  forget  to  thank  the  lady  who  had  befriended 
him.  Then,  to  her  surprise,  he  accompanied  her 


LOVE   AND   DOUBT  281 

into  the  hallway.  Going  straight  up  to  the  general, 
he  said  cordially,  "  Good-by,  General  Ware,  I  trust 
we  shall  meet  again  under  more  favorable  circum 
stances.  Mrs.  Worthington,  I  am  your  most  grate 
ful  and  obedient  servant."  Then  turning  toward 
Miss  Ware,  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  into  which 
there  crept  a  tender  accent  he  did  not  attempt  to 
disguise,  "  Good-by,  Marjorie.  You  see  I  have 
found  you,  after  all  —  if  for  nothing  else  to  return 
this  volume  of  Emerson,  which  I  inadvertently 
took  from  your  hands  this  morning." 

The  general,  in  his  annoyance,  had  overlooked 
the  captain's  proffered  hand. 

Marjorie,  who  had  not  been  aware  of  Clayborne's 
presence  in  the  house,  uttered  a  cry  of  surprise 
at  the  sight  of  him.  She  took  the  book,  and  as 
he  bent  over  her  hand  with  a  courtly  manner  she 
said  quietly,  "  Good-by,  Mr.  Clayborne.  I  wish 
you  the  best  of  fortune  in  life.  Believe  me,  I  do." 

"  Such  a  wish  is  bitter  irony  to  me  now,"  he 
replied  for  her  ear  alone.  She  made  no  answer. 

General  Ware  with  his  sister  and  daughter 
entered  their  carriage  and  drove  away. 

Clayborne  lifted  his  hat  to  them  politely,  and 
walked  off  to  the  hotel,  where  he  hunted  up  Ches 
terfield  and  sat  smoking  with  his  friend  until 
midnight. 


CHAPTER  XX 

A   VOLUME   OF   EMERSON 

MARJORIE  WARE  sat  alone  in  her  own  room  at 
night  with  a  volume  of  Emerson  in  her  hand.  It 
was  a  little  volume  whose  well-worn  cover  of  plain 
brown  cloth  showed  those  marks  of  wear  and  tear 
which  the  books  we  prize  the  most  are  the  most 
likely  to  receive,  and  which  make  them  even 
dearer  to  us. 

She  allowed  the  book  to  open  at  random ;  but 
it  was  not  by  mere  coincidence  that  it  did  so  at 
a  certain  well-known  essay,  because  between  the 
leaves  of  the  book  at  the  beginning  of  a  discourse 
entitled  "Friendship,"  and  following  an  essay  on 
a  still  more  interesting  subject,  lay  a  letter. 

Marjorie  Ware  was  in  love  with  Gordon  Clay- 
borne.  It  is  perhaps  betraying  a  confidence  in 
setting  forth  the  fact  thus  boldly  upon  this  par 
ticular  page,  for  she  had  never  told  her  love  to 
him ;  she  had  never  admitted  it  to  herself ;  she 
had  denied  it  to  her  father.  She  had  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  Gordon  Clayborne  was  not  a  man 
upon  whom  she  could  safely  place  her  affections, 
and  she  had  made  up  her  mind  that  he  must  be 
dismissed  from  her  thoughts.  This  was  more 


A  VOLUME  OF  EMERSON  283 

easily  resolved  upon  than  done,  yet  Miss  Marjorie 
was  a  young  woman  of  determination.  From  her 
father  she  inherited  a  strong  will ;  from  a  long  line 
of  Puritan  ancestry  behind  the  stern  old  general 
she  came  naturally  by  an  inflexible  devotion  to  pur 
pose.  Therefore,  upon  beholding  Gordon's  well- 
known  handwriting  upon  an  envelope  encasing  an 
epistle  doubtless  full  of  excuses,  of  regrets,  and  ex 
pressions  of  unfaltering  devotion  such  as  men  are 
prone  to  employ  to  win  a  desperate  cause,  what 
was  more  natural  and  logical  than  that  she  should 
tear  the  letter  into  a  hundred  pieces  and  cast  them 
from  her,  just  as  she  had  resolved  to  tear  the 
offender  from  her  heart.  Surely  it  would  be  un 
wise  to  read  a  document  calculated  at  least  to  dis 
turb  the  mind  if  not  to  weaken  the  resolution. 

The  records  of  affairs  of  sentiment,  as  far  as  the 
writer  of  this  tale  has  been  able  to  investigate 
them,  fail  to  reveal  any  instance  where  a  woman, 
similarly  placed,  has  thus  sternly  treated  an  unof 
fending  letter,  and  Marjorie  Ware  was  not  the  one 
exception  to  the  rule.  She  hastily  broke  the  seal 
and  was  at  once  deeply  absorbed  in  the  inclosure. 

MY  DEAR  LITTLE  COMRADE  :  —  If  I  do  not 
succeed  in  my  attempt  to  see  and  talk  to  you,  and 
I  feel  more  than  a  suspicion  that  your  father  will 
endeavor  to  prevent  such  a  meeting,  this  letter,  if 
it  finds  its  way  into  your  hands,  will  tell  you  what 
I  should  have  tried  to  tell  you. 

To  begin  with,  you  have  forbidden  me  to  call 


284  THE  CLAYBORNES 

you  any  longer  by  that  familiar  and  friendly  title 
which  has  grown  dear  to  me  through  association 
and  usage.  Little  comrade,  —  I  always  think  of 
you  as  such,  —  it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  re 
turn  so  suddenly  to  a  more  formal  way  of  address 
ing  you ;  so  I  beseech  you,  pardon  me  if  I  disobey 
you  in  this  one  particular. 

By  the  time  these  lines  are  before  your  eyes,  I 
shall  have  left  the  city ;  I  shall  be  once  more  in 
the  field,  with  small  prospect  of  seeing  you  for  a 
long,  long  period,  if  indeed  that  time  ever  comes 
again.  The  uncertainties  of  this  present  life  are 
so  very  great  that  when  we  take  leave  of  our  friends 
to  return  to  the  seat  of  war,  what  is  more  natural 
than  that  we  should  carry  away  with  us  the  feel 
ing  that  we  have  possibly  looked  upon  their  faces 
for  the  last  time.  This  being  the  case,  I  want  you 
to  think  the  best  you  can  of  me.  You  told  me 
that  in  the  past  you  had  great  confidence  in  me, 
that  you  believed  in  me  completely.  I  heard  you 
say  those  words  with  a  momentary  joy  that  was 
turned  into  misery  on  hearing  you  add  that  you 
could  never  fully  trust  me  again,  that  the  element 
of  doubt  would  always  remain  a  barrier  to  our 
friendship.  It  will  be  the  object  of  my  life  to 
dispel  this  doubt.  I  shall  never  rest  until  I  have 
removed  that  barrier. 

To  judge  me  with  justice,  you  should  be  able  to 
put  yourself  in  my  place.  I  was  in  command  of 
a  transport  upon  which  was  a  woman,  a  young 
woman  whom  I  had  known  for  many  years.  She 


A  VOLUME  OF  EMERSON  285 

was  a  prisoner,  and  I  allowed  her  to  escape.  You 
call  her  a  prisoner  of  war  —  a  spy,  and  say  as  such 
she  should  have  been  punished.  Possibly  ;  but  to 
me  she  was  a  woman.  That  fact  overshadowed  all 
others.  In  your  eyes  she  beguiled  me  into  letting 
her  go  free.  In  reality  she  pleaded  with  me.  You 
cannot  understand  what  it  is  to  be  a  man  and  have 
a  woman  plead  with  you  for  her  very  life  and 
liberty.  If  it  were  possible  for  you  to  understand 
it,  you  would  acquit  me.  Perhaps  there  are  some 
men  who  could  have  remained  obdurate.  Gordon 
Clayborne  is  not  one  of  those. 

You  asked  me  to  assure  you  that  at  no  time  in 
the  past  had  I  entertained  for  her  any  affection. 
How  easily  could  a  few  words  have  been  spoken 
to  convince  you  that  I  had  not.  Yet  I  did  not 
speak  them.  Perhaps  I  did  not  deign  to.  It  is 
impossible  for  me  to  understand  why  you  should 
think  the  less  of  me  because  I  may  have  entertained 
some  tender  regard  for  another,  before  I  ever  saw 
or  heard  of  you.  Yet  the  fact  that  you  demanded 
such  an  assurance  causes  me  some  pleasure,  be 
cause,  in  spite  of  yourself,  it  shows  me  that  you  are 
not  entirely  indifferent  to  me.  Although,  Marjorie, 
I  may  have,  in  the  past,  felt  for  some  of  your  fair 
sex  a  sentiment  which  is  akin  and  was  perhaps  mis 
taken  for  love,  I  know  now  that  it  was  but  the  stir 
ring  of  an  affection  which  could  not  awaken  until  I 
had  seen  you.  In  them  my  imagination  sought  an 
ideal  which  could  never  be  realized  until  I  saw  you. 

"  In  them,"  you  repeat.     Were  there  then  sev- 


286  THE  CLAYBORNES 

eral?  you  ask  yourself,  opening  those  dark  blue 
eyes  of  yours.  Little  comrade,  if  there  had  been 
a  dozen  I  should  love  you  a  dozen  times  as  much. 
Had  there  been  a  hundred,  my  affection  for  you 
would  be  a  hundred-fold  as  great. 

But  you  have  forbidden  me  to  speak  to  you  of 
love  and  I  disobey  your  injunction.  I  can  only 
offer  as  an  excuse  that  it  would  be  impossible  to 
write  to  you  at  all  and  not  testify  to  you  the  ardor, 
the  sincerity  of  my  affection.  I  had  hoped  to  see 
you  and  plead  my  cause  in  person  ;  but  failing 
that,  I  have  only  recourse  to  this  cold  white  paper 
and  this  halting  pen  to  implore  you  to  restore  me 
at  least  to  some  small  niche  in  the  temple  of  your 
regard.  If,  in  the  future,  I  ever  occupy  any  part 
of  your  thoughts,  will  you  not  think  of  me  as  a 
man  who  is  unwavering  in  his  affection  for  you  ? 
Although  you  said  you  could  not  continue  to  cor 
respond  with  me  as  you  have  done  in  the  past, 
will  you  not  at  least  write  a  few  lines  in  answer  to 
this  letter  ?  And  if  it  is  impossible  for  you  ever 
to  accord  to  me  the  affection  which  I  desire  so  very 
much,  and  had  hoped  for,  at  least  do  not  deny  me 
the  sunlight  of  your  friendship ;  for  if  you  do  deny 
it,  I  shall  be  forever  the  most  miserable  of  men. 
But  I  shall  always  be, 

Your  devoted, 

GORDON  CLAYBORNE. 

Marjorie  Ware  read  the  letter  intently,  and 
after  sitting  for  some  time  in  thought,  with  her  blue 


A  VOLUME   OF  EMERSON  287 

eyes  fixed  steadily  before  her,  she  turned  to  the 
book  which  had  fallen  to  the  floor,  and  endeavored 
to  quiet  her  feelings  by  reading.  Gordon's  missive 
had  been  secreted  in  the  leaves  of  the  book  between 
the  two  essays  most  in  keeping  with  his  thoughts. 
One  was  a  discourse  upon  "  Friendship,"  the  other 
upon  "  Love."  Marjorie's  selection  chanced  to 
fall  upon  both  of  these.  When  she  had  finished 
and  closed  the  book  she  reread  his  letter.  It  is 
impossible  to  state  with  any  degree  of  accuracy  how 
many  times  she  read  the  letter  subsequently,  but  it 
is  certain  that  the  following  epistle,  traced  in  the 
delicate  feminine  handwriting  of  the  period,  finally 
found  its  way  to  the  camp-fire  where  sat  Gordon 
Clayborne. 

DEAR  MR.  CLAYBORNE  :  —  I  cannot  refuse  to 
write  you  a  few  lines  in  answer  to  such  an  urgent 
appeal  as  that  contained  in  the  letter  which  I 
found  so  unexpectedly  upon  taking  up  the  volume 
of  Emerson.  If  it  is  a  matter  of  such  vast  im 
portance  to  you,  I  will  write  to  you  sometimes, 
only  I  must  beg  of  you  not  to  write  me  such  ar 
dent  protestations  of  affection  as  those  contained 
in  your  recent  letter.  It  would  not  be  right  for 
me  to  permit  it,  for  I  feel  certain  that  I  can  never 
entertain  for  you  any  deeper  feeling  than  that  of 
a  friend.  At  one  time  I  did  think  that  you  had 
forfeited  even  that  title,  but  upon  reconsideration, 
I  have  acquitted  you  of  any  intentional  double 
dealing  with  me;  at  the  same  time  I  feel  quite 


288  THE  CLAYBORNES 

sure  that  your  temperament  and  mine  render  us 
unsuited  for  any  closer  tie. 

You  say  so  earnestly  that  you  wish  for  and  will 
be  satisfied  with  my  friendship,  that  I  cannot  deny 
it  to  you ;  particularly  as  I  always  shall  feel  an 
interest  in  the  welfare  of  one  who  for  so  long  held 
a  high  place  in  my  esteem. 

Please,  my  dear  Mr.  Clayborne,  consider  this  as 
final ;  and  if  it  gives  you  pain  to  read  it,  remember 
it  pains  me  to  write  it.  But  after  what  has  oc 
curred  it  is  the  only  thing  to  do.  So,  if  you  do 
write  me  again,  or  if  after  the  war  you  should  see 
me  again,  please  understand  that  I  can  never  be 
more  than 

Your  sincere  friend, 

MAKJOKIE  WAKE. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE   HOUSE   AT   THE   CROSS-ROADS 

As  the  months  went  by  General  Ware's  health 
had  become  restored,  and  once  more  he  had  com 
mand  of  a  brigade  in  the  field.  Again  his  impas 
sive  face  was  turned  critically  up  and  down  the 
long  line  of  troops.  Again  the  soldiers  heard  his 
cold  quiet  voice  issuing  calm  orders  at  the  drill 
or  on  the  field  of  battle.  General  Ware  enforced 
their  obedience  and  commanded  their  respect ;  and 
although  neither  he  nor  they  were  aware  that  he 
possessed  their  affection,  he  could  have  led  them 
through  a  fiery  furnace  to  the  very  last  man. 

Marjorie  Ware  had  gone  to  the  front  as  a  field 
nurse.  Her  father  had  promised  her  that  she 
should,  and  she  held  him  to  his  word. 

The  opposing  armies  had  struggled  back  and 
forth  in  the  Wilderness,  leaving  a  long  sickening 
trail  of  blood. 

With  the  cry  of  "  On  to  Richmond !  "  the  Army 
of  the  Potomac  had  fought  the  battles  of  Spottsyl- 
vania  and  Cold  Harbor,  and  others  no  less  terrible 
and  bloody.  Lee  had  made  one  last  attempt  to 
"  swap  queens  "  by  threatening  Washington.  The 
country  was  thrown  into  a  fever  of  alarm,  but 


290  THE  CLAYBORNES 

Grant  did  not  retreat.  He  sent  support  to  the 
capital,  while  he  continued  to  advance. 

Slowly  Lee  had  been  driven  back  into  Rich 
mond,  stubbornly  contesting  each  foot  of  the  soil ; 
taking  three  men  for  every  two  he  lost ;  planning 
and  mancBuvring  with  all  his  old-time  skill ;  exe 
cuting  and  fighting  with  all  his  old  brilliancy  and 
vigor.  But  where  his  army  went  there  followed 
Grant,  fighting  wherever  Lee  would  stand ;  like  a 
giant  hammer,  ever  pounding  the  same  spot ;  per 
sistently,  relentlessly  pushing  forward,  always  to 
ward  the  same  end.  With  so  many  thousands 
falling  in  battle,  there  was  ample  work  for  Mar- 
jorie  Ware  to  do.  How  was  she  able  to  do  it? 
To  nurse  the  wounded,  to  see  the  blood,  the  suffer 
ing,  and  the  disease ;  to  support  all  this  willingly, 
cheerfully,  and  not  be  overpowered  by  the  burden  ? 
She  was  delicate  to  look  at,  with  soft  skin  and 
slender  figure,  but  concealed  under  that  Delicate 
exterior  she  had  a  fibre  of  nerve  which  carried  her 
through  the  many  trials.  She  was  one  of  many 
women  who  uncomplainingly  and  fearlessly  endured 
privation  and  overwork  with  a  courage  unsur 
passed  by  the  bravest  men  ;  inspired  by  the  same 
patriotism,  supported  by  the  same  spirit. 

It  was  toward  the  1st  of  April,  1865,  and  Mar- 
jorie  was  riding  her  little  mare  Dolly  along  a  road 
deep  with  Virginia  mud.  It  was  night  and  Miss 
Ware  was  alone.  She  had  started  that  afternoon 
in  the  company  of  a  cavalcade  of  several  hundred 
from  Petersburg,  expecting  long  before  nightfall 


THE  HOUSE  AT  THE  CROSS-ROADS      291 

to  be  at  Dinwiddie,  where  there  was  work  for  her 
to  do.  Miss  Ware  had  been  careless.  The  day 
had  been  exceptionally  fine,  and  she  had  allowed 
her  mare  to  linger  behind  while  she  herself  enjoyed 
the  pleasant  air  and  sunshine,  doubly  sweet  after 
a  long  period  spent  in  hospital  tents.  Marjorie 
had  taken  the  wrong  road  and  had  lost  her  way. 
She  was  not  greatly  worried,  for  as  soon  as  she 
became  aware  of  her  error  she  began  to  retrace 
her  route,  feeling  certain  that  her  absence  would 
soon  be  discovered,  and  that  some  one  would  be 
sure  to  come  back  in  search  of  her.  But  mean 
while  the  horse  was  stumbling  with  fatigue,  and 
the  rider  was  wet  and  numb  from  a  cold  rain  which 
had  set  in.  This  rain  drove  violently  in  her  face, 
a  pelting,  blinding  storm,  which  cut  her  cheek 
pitilessly,  and  made  the  mare  droop  her  head  and 
swerve  in  her  attempt  to  turn  from  the  tempest. 
It  was  so  dark  Marjorie  could  not  distinguish  the 
road  save  for  the  splashing  of  the  horse's  hoofs 
through  the  mire,  and  the  dark  wall  of  trees  on 
each  side  of  the  way.  She  drew  her  little  army 
cloak  more  closely  around  her,  and  wondered 
whether  she  would  be  obliged  to  spend  the  night 
thus,  and  whether  the  mare  and  she  could  hold 
out  until  assistance  or  morning  came.  "  We  must 
keep  up  heart  a  little  longer,  Dolly,"  she  said, 
trying  to  revive  her  own  courage  by  speaking 
cheerily  to  the  horse.  "  They  must  have  missed 
us  some  time  ago,  and  may  come  at  any  moment 
to  find  us." 


292  THE  CLAYBORNES 

A  light  shone  through  the  trees  in  front  of  her. 
It  seemed  to  disappear,  then  came  again  to  shine 
more  steadily.  "  There  they  are  now,  Doll !  "  she 
exclaimed  joyfully.  "  Did  I  not  tell  you  they 
would  soon  find  us?  "  She  urged  the  horse  forward 
as  she  spoke,  and  the  intelligent  creature  pricked 
up  its  ears,  and  responded  to  her  voice  by  in 
creasing  its  speed  to  a  canter.  Marjorie  gave  a 
loud  call  and  rode  forward,  forgetful  for  the  mo 
ment  of  the  rain  and  chill.  The  light  remained 
stationary,  and  Miss  Ware  finally  drew  rein,  to 
find  herself  in  front  of  a  house  which  stood  hidden 
among  the  trees  a  few  rods  back  from  the  road. 
The  girl  sat  still  in  the  saddle.  The  mare  drooped 
her  head,  and  cowed  again  before  the  blast.  Mar 
jorie  hesitated.  She  was  in  an  enemy's  country. 
It  was  night,  and  she  was  alone.  Her  spirits 
sank  again.  Here  was  shelter ;  but  was  it  a  safe 
one?  The  storm  seemed  to  increase  in  violence, 
swaying  the  trees  about  the  house,  and  beating 
against  the  paintless  boards  worn  gray  by  a  hun 
dred  similar  encounters  with  the  elements.  But 
here  was  refuge,  and  she  decided  to  avail  of  it. 
The  chances  were  in  favor  of  her  finding  human 
beings  willing  to  afford  her  shelter  for  the  night. 
Her  calling  should  be  her  protection  if  she  needed 
any.  She  approached.  A  small  outhouse  caught 
her  eye.  This  would  offer  a  snug  place  for  Dolly, 
she  thought,  and  riding  in,  she  saw  that  although 
it  was  untenanted  there  was  a  small  quantity  of 
dry  hay  and  straw.  With  a  childlike  cry  of  joy 


THE  HOUSE  AT  THE  CROSS-ROADS      293 

she  dismounted.  "  Here  is  bed  and  board  for  you, 
my  pet,"  she  exclaimed,  and  like  a  good  little 
soldier  made  the  mare  comfortable  for  the  night. 
Then  she  went  to  the  house  and  knocked  boldly 
at  the  door.  The  wind  and  rain  drowned  all  her 
efforts  to  rouse  the  inmates,  for  no  answer  came. 
She  knocked  again,  louder  than  before,  and  raising 
her  voice  called  shrilly  for  those  within  to  open. 
She  began  to  think  she  would  have  to  share  the 
horse's  straw  bed  when  the  sound  of  a  bolt  being 
slipped  back  was  received  with  welcome  by  her 
ears.  The  door  opened  a  little  way.  Thinking 
only  to  get  out  of  the  tempest,  Marjorie  pushed 
in.  A  heavy  gust  of  wind  blew  the  door  shut  with 
a  bang,  at  the  same  time  extinguishing  a  light 
held  in  a  man's  hand. 

With  fast  beating  heart  Marjorie  heard  the  bolt 
shoved  back  into  place,  while  she  stood  in  the  dark 
ness.  In  the  brief  instant  she  had  caught  a  glimpse 
of  the  figure  before  her,  and  it  had  sent  a  creeping 
fear  through  her  whole  body.  A  hand  was  placed 
on  her  shoulder,  and  she  was  conducted  into  the 
room  where  there  was  light.  A  small  fire  of  pine 
knots  burned  merrily  on  a  hearth,  throwing  fan 
tastic  shadows  on  the  bare  walls.  Marjorie,  with 
her  cape  over  her  head,  disclosing  only  a  part  of 
her  face,  confronted  two  men.  She  looked  at  them 
intently,  with  a  frightened  expression  in  her  deep 
blue  eyes,  made  brighter  by  excitement.  He  who 
had  brought  her  in  was  short  and  stout,  with  a 
face  of  Hibernian  mould.  His  hair  and  beard 


294  THE  CLAYBORNES 

were  red  and  shaggy.  In  some  fracas  he  had  lost 
an  eye,  and  that  which  remained  to  him  was  red, 
either  from  drink  or  rage,  and  he  was  unsteady  in 
his  gait.  Without  speaking,  he  walked  or  rather 
swayed  toward  a  chair  and  sat  down  wearily.  His 
clothing  was  rough  and  worn,  and  splashed  with 
mud.  There  were  other  splashes  on  his  coat. 
They  were  dark  red,  and  Marjorie  saw  that  they 
were  of  blood.  Around  his  neck  he  had  tied  a 
handkerchief,  and  this  also  was  dyed  red. 

Marjorie  looked  from  this  unwelcome  sight  to 
the  other  figure.  He  was  standing  by  the  table 
with  one  hand  resting  heavily  upon  it.  He  was 
young  and  well  built.  His  face  was  bronzed  from 
long  exposure,  and  might  not  have  been  called 
bad  looking  if  his  eyes  had  not  been  inflamed  by 
passion  and  drink.  He,  like  his  companion,  was 
splashed  with  mud  from  top  to  toe.  A  knife  lay 
where  it  had  been  thrown  on  the  floor  at  his  feet. 
He  did  not  stoop  to  pick  it  up,  but  pouring  some 
liquor  into  a  cup  from  a  demijohn  at  his  elbow, 
pushed  the  jug  across  the  table  toward  his  com 
panion  with  a  gesture  half  conciliatory,  half  con 
temptuous,  saying  grimly,  "  Here,  Galloway,  take 
a  drink,"  and  then  slowly  drank  his  own  dram, 
looking  at  Marjorie  as  he  did  so.  The  dancing 
fire  threw  its  fitful  light  about  the  room,  now  glow 
ing  upon  the  men's  faces,  now  casting  them  in 
shadow,  making  them  look  more  brutal  and  the 
scene  more  weird. 

The  taller  man  was  the  first  to  speak.    "  I  know 


THE  HOUSE  AT  THE  CROSS-ROADS      295 

we  are  drunk,"  he  said,  struggling  to  keep  back 
a  hiccough. 

Marjorie  was  frightened.  She  saw  that  she  was 
at  the  mercy  of  two  drunken  men.  That  neither 
of  them  made  any  attempt  to  harm  her  reassured 
her  only  for  the  moment.  That  they  seemed  to 
regard  without  surprise  her  entrance  upon  the 
scene  of  their  orgie  merely  indicated  how  far  gone 
were  their  reasoning  faculties.  She  looked  about 
her  quickly  for  the  best  method  of  escape,  know 
ing  that  she  must  keep  her  wits,  trusting  that  the 
stupor  of  the  men  would  permit  her  to  get  -out  of 
the  terrifying  situation. 

"  Yes,  we  're  drunk,  Miss  —  Miss,  dang  it,  can't 
remember  name,  but  we  've  cause  to  be.  Work 
ing  day  and  night  for  a  week  —  look  at  us  —  don't 
we  look  as  though  we  needed  bracing  up  ?  "  The 
question  admitted  of  no  denial  and  Marjorie  "made 
no  answer. 

"  But  clid  n't  expect  you  so  early,  Miss  —  I  '11 
remember  your  name  soon  as  I  get  little  sober  — 
or  should  n't  have  gotten  like  this  ;  but  I  'm  not  so 
bad  as  I  look  —  can  talk  business  —  Jes'  wait  a 
little  till  I  dip  my  head  in  cold  water.  I  '11  be  back 
shortly.  It  '11  take  more  'n  pint  of  whiskey  to  bowl 
over  Jake  Kilby  when  there  's  business  to  attend 
to  or  ladies  "  — 

Having  delivered  himself  thus,  slowly  and  with 
some  difficulty,  stumbling  over  the  longer  words 
and  making  the  greatest  effort  to  be  coherent, 
Jake  Kilby  steadied  himself  against  the  table  and 


296  THE  CLAYBORNES 

walked  with  surprising  straightness  towards  the 
door. 

Marjorie  stepped  quickly  out  of  his  way.  What 
he  meant  by  this  harangue  she  could  not  under 
stand,  but  both  men  evidently  looked  upon  her  as 
an  expected  guest.  She  resolved  to  humor  this 
whim,  hoping  that  before  the  revelers  came  to  their 
senses  she  would  get  out  of  the  house  and  safely 
upon  Dolly's  back.  It  was  with  a  feeling  of  joy 
that  she  saw  Kilby  leave  the  door  open  and  disap 
pear  into  the  dark  passageway.  Here  she  heard 
him  stumble,  and  striking  against  some  inanimate 
object  swear  at  it  roundly.  Then  his  heavy  boots 
sounded  in  a  distant  room,  followed  by  the  swash 
of  water,  accompanied  by  puffing  and  blowing  as 
of  a  porpoise. 

Marjorie  gave  an  anxious  look  at  the  man  seated 
in  the  chair.  He  ignored  her  presence  completely. 
With  a  light  tread  the  girl  was  out  in  the  hall  and 
fumbling  at  the  huge  bolt.  It  was  rusty  and  re 
fused  to  budge.  She  tried  to  push  back  the  iron 
bar,  and  only  succeeded  in  making  it  rattle  loudly. 
She  stopped  to  listen ;  Kilby  was  still  occupied 
with  his  ablutions.  Again  she  tried,  with  all  her 
strength,  with  all  the  desperation  of  necessity  and 
of  despair.  She  could  not  get  out.  She  halted, 
breathless.  A  feeling  of  her  helplessness  came 
over  her.  She  rattled  at  the  bolt  noisily  and 
struck  the  panel  in  anger  with  her  clinched  hand. 
She  was  obliged  to  remain  a  prisoner.  Not  know 
ing  which  way  to  turn,  in  her  extremity  she  went 


THE  HOUSE  AT  THE  CROSS-ROADS      297 

back  into  the  room.  The  man  with  the  bloody 
kerchief  was  talking  to  himself.  Marjorie  went 
up  to  him  and  said  in  a  tone  of  command  :  — 

"  Come  and  open  the  door  !     I  wish  to  go  out." 

"  He  struck  me,"  muttered  the  man,  blinking 
at  her  with  his  one  red  eye.  "  He  struck  me  with 
a  knife  —  my  own  knife,  too  —  He  turned  it 
against  me." 

"  Who  did  ?  "  inquired  Marjorie. 

"  Kilby  did,"  was  the  reply,  while  he  looked  up 
at  her. 

She  saw  he  had  renewed  his  potations  from  the 


"  My  own  knife,"  he  went  on  in  a  maudlin  tone. 

Marjorie  stooped  quickly,  caught  up  the  weapon, 
and  concealed  it  under  her  cloak.  Then  she 
grasped  him  by  the  shoulder  and  in  peremptory 
tones  said,  "  Rouse  yourself,  man,  and  open  the 
door  for  me  !  I  want  to  go  out  !  " 

"  Can't  see  why  !  "  he  hiccoughed. 

"  It  is  not  for  you  to  see,  but  to  obey,"  she  said 
sternly. 

The  drunken  man  got  upon  his  feet  with  dif 
ficulty.  Overcoming  her  great  repugnance,  she 
assisted  his  tottering  legs  in  a  zigzag  path  to  the 
front  door.  Her  heart  beat  high  between  antici 
pation  of  a  speedy  release  and  fear  that  the  man 
was  too  far  gone  in  his  cups  to  move  the  bolt. 

"  Quick  !  "  she  exclaimed  in  an  excited  whisper, 
hardly  able  to  repress  a  cry  of  fear  as  she  heard 
Kilby's  footsteps  approaching. 


298  THE  CLAYBORNES 

The  drunkard  fumbled  at  the  bolt,  muttering  to 
himself.  Before  he  could  draw  it  back,  a  sharp 
knock  sounded  on  the  outside,  and  voices  were 
heard  in  conversation.  Marjorie  stepped  back, 
looked  around  helplessly,  and  made  a  run  for  the 
stairway.  Upstairs  she  bounded  like  a  frightened 
deer,  bent  only  on  escaping  the  present  danger, 
and  stood  on  the  landing  above  in  the  darkness 
with  beating  heart,  wondering  what  the  outcome 
for  her  would  be.  If  the  newcomers  were  men 
untouched  by  drink,  she  felt  that,  although  they 
were  enemies,  an  appeal  to  their  manhood  would 
not  be  unheeded,  and  they  would  allow  a  woman 
to  depart  unmolested.  She  listened,  as  Kilby 
reached  the  door,  pushed  his  companion  aside  so 
heavily  as  to  cause  him  to  fall,  and  threw  back  the 
bolt. 

To  her  intense  joy  a  woman's  voice  spoke,  —  a 
voice  of  refinement  doubly  musical  to  her  ear. 

Marjorie  had  her  foot  on  the  stair  to  descend 
when  Kilby  pronounced  a  name  which  caused  her 
to  stop  short,  as  if  she  had  been  struck. 

"  You,  Miss  Dowd,  why,  I  thought  you  were  in 
the  house !  " 

"  Kilby,  what  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  You  've 
been  drinking !  Shame  upon  you,  man !  at  such  a 
time  when  there  is  work  to  be  done !  And  as  for 
that  drunken  creature  who  has  fallen  asleep  there 
in  the  corner,  he  is  disgraceful.  I  thought  I  could 
depend  on  you  at  least,  Kilby." 

"  So  you  can,  Miss  Dowd.     I  am  sobering  up 


THE  HOUSE  AT  THE  CROSS-ROADS      299 

quickly.  It  is  n't  often  whiskey  gets  the  best  of 
me." 

"  What  was  that  you  said  about  my  being  in 
the  house  ?  " 

Kilby  hesitated.  To  repeat  that  he  had  mis 
taken  another  for  her  would  be  to  show  that  he 
had  been  more  under  the  influence  of  the  liquor 
than  his  pride  would  let  him  admit.  He  drew  his 
hand  across  his  forehead  and  looked  about  him. 
The  first  woman  had  disappeared.  "  I  have  been 
pretty  far  gone,  Miss,  but  I  am  all  right  now  and 
ready  for  business.  I  must  have  dreamed  it." 

Flora  Dowd  paid  no  further  attention  to  the 
subject,  attributing  it  to  the  fantastic  whim  of  an 
inebriate's  brain. 

"  Lock  the  outer  door  and  come  into  the  room 
here !  "  Then,  in  the  next  breath,  she  cried, 
"  Lord,  what  a  disorderly  place !  Put  a  few  more 
sticks  on  the  fire  !  Cannot  you  bring  a  lamp  ? 
We  must  have  more  light.  I  expect  Major  Clay- 
borne  to  meet  me  here." 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  words.  Marjorie 
heard  them  plainly,  Major  Clayborne.  He  had 
written  her  recently  of  his  promotion.  Although 
she  had  not  seen  him  during  the  past  year,  he  had 
through  his  letter  slowly  reestablished  himself  in 
her  esteem.  Down  in  her  heart  she  still  had  cher 
ished  the  belief  that  he  was  worthy  of  much  regard. 
Now  her  last  atom  of  trust  was  shattered  with  a 
sudden  blow.  How  could  it  be  possible  that  a  man 
could  be  so  false,  not  to  her  alone,  but  to  every 


300  THE  CLAYBORNES 

trust !  Yet  she  heard  the  words  spoken  plainly,  so 
carelessly  and  naturally,  —  "  Major  Clayborne  to 
meet  me  here."  Marjorie  thought  no  longer  of 
escape  ;  she  only  thought  of  learning  more,  of  ob 
taining  possession  of  the  truth,  of  solving  the  whole 
mystery  at  whatever  cost,  at  whatever  risk  to  her 
self.  She  entered  the  room  above  that  which  was 
occupied  below.  The  house  was  unfurnished.  The 
upper  rooms  were  unused  and  untenanted,  save  by 
rats  which  skurried  about,  squeaking.  She  sat 
down,  thinking  only  of  one  thing.  The  ceiling  of 
the  room  below  was  unplastered,  and  the  sound  of 
voices  came  to  her  through  the  floor  upon  which 
she  sat,  but  beyond  an  occasional  word  she  could 
distinguish  nothing  but  the  murmur.  A  slight  ray 
of  light  came  up  through  a  crack  in  the  boards. 
She  took  the  knife  which  she  still  had  in  her  hand, 
and  stealthily,  with  the  greatest  pains,  cut  the 
crack  a  little  larger,  until  by  putting  her  eye  close 
to  it  she  could  make  out  a  little  of  the  scene 
below.  Quietly  as  a  mouse  at  its  nocturnal  work, 
she  plied  the  knife,  gradually  making  the  aperture 
larger  and  larger,  carefully  brushing  each  shaving 
to  one  side.  She  was  at  work  directly  over  the 
table,  and  could  now  see  a  young  and  handsome 
woman  sitting  nonchalantly  on  the  edge  of  it,  with 
one  foot  on  the  floor,  while  a  glimpse  of  a  portion 
of  Kilby's  large  figure  was  visible,  seated  hi  a 
chair  on  the  other  side.  A  few  tiny  slivers  of 
wood  dropped  full  upon  the  table. 

"What   was   that?"    exclaimed   Flora   Dowd, 
looking  up. 


THE  HOUSE  AT  THE  CROSS-ROADS      301 

Marjorie's  blood  seemed  to  stop  flowing,  the 
knife  remained  poised  in  air. 

"  It  must  be  the  rats,"  answered  Kilby  indiffer 
ently.  "  The  old  place  is  full  of  them." 

The  conversation  below  was  resumed. 

Marjorie  waited,  hardly  breathing  for  several 
minutes,  then  the  mouse  began  its  work  again. 
When  she  had  made  the  hole  as  large  as  she  dared, 
she  lay  extended  on  the  floor,  and  placing  her  eye 
to  the  aperture  could  see  a  part  of  the  room  and 
both  of  the  occupants.  With  her  ear  to  the  crev 
ice  she  could  hear  all  that  was  said.  A  fierce 
thrill  of  excitement  went  through  her.  She  forgot 
her  past  fears.  If  there  was  a  double  game  to  be 
played  in  love  and  war  she  could  play  her  part. 

By  the  use  of  an  abundance  of  cold  water, 
Kilby  had  succeeded  in  throwing  off  the  effects  of 
the  liquor.  He  was  a  man  who  could  consume  a 
large  quantity  of  whiskey,  but  he  rarely  allowed  it 
to  overpower  him  when  there  was  work  to  be  done. 
He  entertained  a  marked  respect  for  Regina  Bowie, 
known  to  him  as  Flora  Dowd,  and  felt  ashamed  — 
not  so  much  that  she  had  seen  him  indulging  in  a 
debauch,  as  that  she  should  find  him  remiss  in  his 
duty.  The  hazy  recollection  of  another  woman 
who  had  appeared  so  mysteriously  out  of  the  night 
and  whom  he  had  mistaken  for  Miss  Dowd  still 
troubled  him.  What  had  become  of  her  puzzled 
him.  He  concluded  that  in  the  confusion  inci 
dent  to  the  arrival  of  Flora  the  other  woman  had 
slipped  out  into  the  darkness  as  mysteriously  as 
she  had  come  in. 


302  THE  CLAYBORNES 

Regina  Bowie  had  drawn  a  chair  up  to  the  table 
and  was  busy  reading  a  letter.  She  was  wet  from 
the  rain  and  mud  bespattered,  but  indifferent  to 
these  discomforts  she  was  absorbed  in  the  business 
of  the  moment.  Marjorie  studied  her  with  the 
deepest  interest,  examining  every  detail  of  her 
face.  The  arched  eyebrow,  the  delicate  nose,  the 
resolute  mouth,  a  little  large,  but  a  captivating 
mouth  with  warm  red  lips  which,  when  parted  in  a 
smile,  revealed  white,  even  teeth.  That  she  was 
handsome  Marjorie  could  not  deny,  although  she 
saw  in  her  the  woman  who  was  responsible  for 
Gordon  Clay  borne' s  perfidy. 

Marjorie  once  had  held  him  as  a  hero,  she  had 
placed  him  upon  a  pedestal  and  worshiped  him 
from  afar.  She  had  seen  the  idol  descend  from 
its  column  and  become  nothing  more  than  a  man. 
As  time  wore  on  she  had  begun  to  rehabilitate  the 
idol  and  replace  it  upon  its  pedestal,  and  now  a 
stroke  of  lightning  had  laid  it  low  in  the  dust  at 
her  feet,  shattered  into  a  thousand  fragments.  She 
was  outraged,  wrathful.  She  felt  that  she  could 
punish  the  apostate  with  unrelenting  sternness. 

If  it  had  not  been  for  these  passions  which  up 
held  her  she  would  have  been  broken-hearted. 

The  storm  had  lulled.  Only  a  fitful  wailing  of 
the  dying  wind  sounded  through  the  tall  pines. 
The  heavy  thud  of  horses'  hoofs  announced  the 
approach  of  some  riders. 

Alert  on  the  instant,  Regina  looked  up.  "  That 
must  be  Clayborne,"  she  said. 


THE  HOUSE  AT  THE  CROSS-ROADS      303 

The  woman  listening  in  the  room  above  drew  a 
quick  breath  ;  the  word  had  cut  her  sharply. 

"  Does  he  know  where  to  put  up  the  horses  ?  " 
Regina  inquired. 

"  I  '11  go  and  show  him,"  and  Kilby  went  out  of 
the  front  door,  leaving  it  open  after  him. 

The  night  air  blew  in  with  a  chill.  Regina 
poured  out  some  whiskey  and  drank  it  off  easily. 
Then  she  drew  up  to  the  fire  and  waited.  Kilby 
met  the  newcomers  in  the  road,  and  led  them  to  a 
spot  some  little  distance  back  in  the  woods,  where 
for  greater  safety  all  the  horses  were  kept. 

Now  was  the  moment  for  Marjorie  Ware  to 
leave  the  house.  Here  was  an  opportunity  to  slip 
out  to  the  shed  where  she  had  left  Dolly,  and 
after  the  men  had  entered  the  house  to  ride  off  in 
safety.  The  thought  of  flight  never  entered  her 
head.  She  tiptoed  to  the  window  with  all  the 
precaution  of  a  thief  and  looked  out  into  the 
night.  She  could  discern  little  beyond  the  sway 
ing  pine-trees  near  the  house  and  the  dark  sky 
above.  The  tramp  of  boots  and  the  jingle  of 
spurs  on  the  porch  brought  her  back  to  her  peep 
hole.  Two  young  men  in  Confederate  gray  entered 
the  room  with  Kilby.  Marjorie's  heart  was  beat 
ing  so  fast  and  loud  as  to  pain  her,  but  her  lips 
were  set  with  determination.  She  was  resolved  to 
meet  guile  with  guile. 

If  Major  Gordon  Clayborne  had  come  to  betray 
the  secrets  of  the  Union  side,  a  retribution  was  in 
store  for  him.  Marjorie  would  hear  everything 


304  THE  CLAYBORNES 

that  was  said,  and  if  she  ever  escaped  she  would 
not  spare  him. 

One  of  the  officers  lay  down  by  the  fire  in  si 
lence  with  an  air  of  dejection  and  fatigue;  the 
other  in  the  centre  of  the  room  stood  buoyantly  as 
if  no  weather  or  reverse  of  fortune  could  dampen 
his  spirits.  Although  his  back  was  turned  to  her, 
Marjorie  thought  she  recognized  his  figure  before 
he  spoke.  How  she  loathed  him  in  his  gray  coat ! 

"  Gad,  Regina,  what  a  night  we  've  had.  I 
mean  Major."  He  corrected  himself  with  a  laugh. 
"  I  always  forget  your  title." 

Clayborne's  voice ! 

How  vividly  Marjorie  recalled  when  she  had 
last  heard  it !  How  he  had  pleaded  with  her  to 
believe  in  him  and  trust  him  !  How  nearly  he  had 
persuaded  her !  She  shuddered  now  to  think  how 
near,  and  thanked  God  that  she  had  not  granted 
him  the  last  begged-for  interview  in  Washington. 
She  recalled  the  letters  he  had  since  written  to  her, 
full  of  sentiment  and  affection,  notwithstanding 
her  strong  edict  that  love  should  be  proscribed. 
She  knew  that  she  could  never  believe  in  any  man 
again  as  long  as  she  lived  —  except  her  father. 

She  noticed  that  there  was  a  lighter  quality  to 
Clayborne's  voice.  The  same  soft  intonations  were 
there,  but  he  spoke  more  airily,  and  with  a  little 
more  vivacity.  But  was  he  not  speaking  to  the 
woman  he  loved,  and  could  he  not  change  his  mood 
as  easily  as  he  could  his  coat  ? 

"  Well,   Major,  what  is  your  budget  of  news  ?  " 


THE  HOUSE  AT  THE  CROSS-ROADS      305 

continued  Clayborne.  He  changed  his  position  as 
he  spoke,  the  light  from  the  fire  fell  across  his  face, 
and  nothing  but  the  greatest  self-control  prevented 
Marjorie  from  crying  out  aloud.  It  was  not  Gor 
don  Clayborne  !  The  same  dark,  curly  hair,  the 
same  fine  forehead,  but  not  Gordon. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

MAEJORIE   WARE    AND   REGINA    BOWIE 

"  MY  news  is  not  of  the  brightest,  Clifford," 
said  Regina,  taking  a  chair  by  the  fire. 

"  Let  us  have  it.  No  one  in  the  service  has 
brought  more  accurate  news." 

"  Sheridan  is  at  Dinwiddie,"  continued  the  young 
woman. 

"  I  know  it,"  nodded  Major  Clifford  Clayborne. 
"  The  little  cuss  is  tearing  up  the  railroads  and 
destroying  our  communications  with  his  usual 
activity." 

"Do  you  know  how  many  men  he  has  with 
him  ?  "  inquired  Regina. 

"  The  rascal  generally  rides  on  his  raids  at  the 
head  of  five  or  ten  thousand  of  his  robbers,"  re 
plied  Clifford. 

"  He  has  nine  thousand  mounted  men,"  ex 
claimed  Regina.  "  Here  is  a  copy  of  a  letter  from 
him  to  one  of  his  division  commanders.  Warren 
has  been  ordered  to  support  him.  You  see  Sheri 
dan  is  not  merely  on  a  raid.  It  is  to  be  a  general 
advance  all  along  the  line." 

"Well,  let  them  advance,"  said  Clifford  dog 
gedly.  "  They  can  have  Richmond  if  they  want 


MARJORIE  WARE  AND  REGINA  BOWIE    307 

to,  but  they  can't  have  Lee.  They  can't  have  the 
Army  of  Northern  Virginia." 

"  Clifford,  you  do  not  mean  that  Richmond  will 
surrender  !  "  cried  Regina. 

"  It  will,  my  dear,"  answered  the  Confederate 
major  gloomily.  "  Lee  cannot  hold  Richmond 
another  week.  Before  three  days  are  over  they 
must  all  be  out  of  the  city.  There  is  no  use  clos 
ing  our  eyes  to  the  inevitable." 

"  Clifford,"  cried  Regina,  "  what  you  tell  me 
breaks  my  heart !  "  There  was  a  note  of  pain  in 
her  voice,  and  she  walked  up  and  down  the  room 
with  the  nervous  tread  of  a  caged  panther.  The 
heart  in  the  bosom  of  the  other  woman,  listening 
with  breathless  interest  in  the  room  above,  was 
correspondingly  elated. 

"  I  cannot  believe  it,"  moaned  Regina.  "  I  will 
not  believe  it !  "  she  added  fiercely,  stamping  her 
foot  on  the  floor.  "  I  will  take  a  musket  and  stand 
on  the  ramparts  myself  before  I  will  see  the  city 
given  over  to  the  hands  of  those  vandals !  " 

"  Our  men  have  fought  like  heroes,"  said  Clif 
ford  quietly. 

"  I  know  they  have,"  acquiesced  Regina,  "  but 
they  must  hold  out.  What  will  the  country  say- 
when  it  hears  that  all  is  lost  ?  " 

"  All  is  not  lost,"  cried  Clifford,  springing  to 
his  feet.  "  They  can  have  Richmond.  They  will 
find  it  but  an  empty  shell,  a  husk  for  which  they 
have  spent  their  treasure  and  wasted  rivers  of 
blood.  They  will  find  the  real  Southern  Confeder- 


308  THE  CLAYBORNES 

acy  in  the  hearts  of  Lee  and  his  soldiers.  There 
the  fire  of  patriotism  will  continue  to  burn.  They 
cannot  quench  that,  Regina." 

"  I  will  never  submit  to  these  invaders  of  our 
soil.  If  they  cannot  subdue  our  women,  then 
how  can  they  expect  to  subdue  our  men  ?  "  cried 
Regina. 

"  You  are  well  worthy  of  your  shoulder-straps, 
Major,"  exclaimed  Clifford,  changing  his  mood 
to  one  of  gayety.  "  The  reports  which  you  have 
brought  to  me  are  of  inestimable  value.  I  shall 
take  them  to  Richmond  at  once.  Anything  of 
value  or  interest  which  comes  in  your  way  send 
or  bring  to  me  there." 

"  Trust  me,  Clifford,  to  let  nothing  escape  me 
which  will  be  of  value  to  our  side.  I  '11  go  out 
again.  Good-by,  till  we  meet  again,  my  boy." 

"  All  right,  Regina,"  replied  Clifford.  "  But 
first  I  must  get  something  to  eat,  for  I  am  raven 
ous.  Then  I  '11  ride  back  at  once.  Come,  Kilby, 
have  you  anything  in  the  larder  ?  " 

"  Nothing  but  chicken  and  hoecake,  plenty  of 
that,"  answered  Kilby. 

"  Chicken  and  hoecake,"  repeated  Clifford. 
"  You  scouts  feast  like  Olympian  gods.  I  only 
wish  the  poor  fellows  in  the  trenches  at  Richmond 
could  get  a  bite  of  such  fare.  But  as  they  can't, 
Kilby,  set  forth  the  provender  and  I  '11  do  double 
justice  to  it.  There 's  work  to  be  done,  and  we 
must  stoke  up  the  furnace  fires  of  the  old  machine, 
so  that  she  will  run  full  blast,"  and  Clifford,  cross- 


MARJORIE  WARE   AND  REGINA  BOWIE    309 

ing  over  to  where  the  officer  lay  sleeping  on  his 
blanket  by  the  fire,  shook  him  by  the  arm. 

The  man  roused  himself  wearily,  rose  to  a  sit 
ting  posture,  and  murmured  something  in  a  low 
voice.  From  her  position  Marjorie  could  not  see 
him ;  she  could  only  hear  the  clear  voice  of  Major 
Clifford  Clayborne. 

"  Nonsense,  man,  eat  something.  The  reason 
you  have  no  strength  is  because  you  don't  take 
enough  food  when  chance  brings  it  in  your  way. 
As  for  me,  I  'm  going  to  fill  my  belly  for  present 
needs,  and  my  saddle-bags  for  the  future.  After 
that,  let  hunger  find  me  if  she  will,  for  I  'm  damned 
if  I  know  where  the  supplies  will  come  from." 

The  other  kicked  aside  the  blanket  and  rose  to 
his  feet. 

"That's  right,  old  fellow,"  cried  Clifford. 
"  Take  a  nip  of  whiskey  to  give  you  an  appetite, 
and  then  take  a  chicken  leg  in  your  ringers,  for 
we  must  get  away  at  once." 

Eegina,  who  had  been  tightening  her  belt,  and 
preparing  herself  for  further  scout  duty,  poured 
out  three  generous  drams.  "  Come,  Frank,"  she 
said  gayly,  "  brace  up  and  be  a  man.  Take  a 
drink  to  the  success  of  the  only  cause  worthy  of 
a  man's  courage." 

"  I  '11  drink  to  you,  Regina,"  cried  the  young 
man,  taking  the  cup  fiercely.  "  I  '11  drink  to  your 
eyes  —  your  lips  —  your  soul  —  everything  about 
you  —  you,  for  whom  I  have  given  up  friends, 
honor,  country,  everything  the  world  holds  dear." 


310  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  Come,  Frank,  old  fellow,  don't  be  sentimental 
now.  There 's  other  and  more  important  work  in 
hand." 

"  But  I  can  only  think  of  you.  I  only  live  for 
a  word  from  you.  It  was  I  who  really  let  you 
escape  from  the  River  Queen,  not  Gordon  Clay- 
borne.  I  could  have  held  you  prisoner,  but  I  did 
not.  You  have  held  me  a  prisoner  ever  since. 
Either  let  me  go  or  give  me  a  little  portion  of  that 
hire  for  which  I  sold  myself,  your  heart." 

Regina  laughed  her  low,  musical  laugh.  "  I  will 
not  let  you  go.  I  could  never  spare  you,  Frank, 
and  you  are  always  in  my  heart,  you  silly  fellow. 
Come,  let  that  suffice  you." 

"  Am  I,  Regina,  am  I  really  of  some  value  in 
your  eyes  ?  "  cried  the  young  man,  his  wan  face 
lighting  up.  "  Then  I  will  do  anything  in  the 
world  for  you.  I  will  go  now  to  the  horses  and 
have  them  all  ready.  Bring  me  a  bit  of  food  if 
you  wish,  Clay  borne,"  and  he  hurriedly  left  the 
room. 

Regina  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  looked  at 
Clifford.  "  Frank 's  a  good  fellow,"  she  said 
lightly,  "but  we  must  hurry  now  and  not  lose 
any  more  time." 

Clifford,  who  took  his  love  affairs  lightly,  did 
not  give  a  passing  thought  to  what  was  tragedy  in 
the  life  of  another  man. 

"  Lead  on,  Regina  ;  let  us  see  what  Kilby  has 
prepared,"  and  whistling  merrily,  Major  Clifford 
Clayborne  followed  her  from  the  room. 


MARJORIE  WARE  AND  REGINA  BOWIE    311 

With  swimming  head,  and  heart  beating  to 
suffocation,  Marjorie  Ware  had  seen  the  brother 
whom  she  had  thought  dead  standing  below  among 
her  enemies,  the  enemies  of  his  country.  He  was 
pale  and  thin ;  worn  to  a  shadow  of  the  boy  she 
had  mourned  as  dead,  but  he  moved  and  talked  in 
the  land  of  the  living.  What  he  said  seemed  at 
first  almost  meaningless  to  her.  She  could  not 
believe  in  her  own  senses  but  lay  half  stunned 
upon  the  floor.  Slowly  the  full  significance  pen 
etrated  to  her  bewildered  mind,  and  by  an  effort 
of  her  will  she  roused  herself  to  thought  and  action. 

The  three  Confederates  were  eating  in  the 
kitchen.  She  could  hear  the  low  murmur  of  their 
conversation,  and  occasionally  an  outburst  in  the 
fresh  voice  of  Clifford  Clayborne.  Her  brother 
had  just  left  the  house.  He  was  somewhere  near 
at  hand.  He  was  not  a  rebel,  not  an  enemy,  but 
her  brother.  She  must  find  him.  He  would  be 
her  protector.  She  would  win  him  back  from  the 
woman  who  was  destroying  him.  A  certain  fierce 
spirit  which  she  never  knew  she  possessed  roused 
itself  within  her.  She  felt  herself  the  match  for 
this  other  woman. 

Summoning  all  her  wits,  she  rose  cautiously  to 
her  feet.  She  steadied  herself  for  an  instant, 
took  up  the  knife,  put  it  in  her  belt,  and  crept 
stealthily  towards  the  door.  Down  the  stairs  she 
went  step  by  step.  The  front  door  was  half  open  ; 
the  gray  light  of  approaching  dawn  showed  her 
the  way.  Once  outside  that  door  and  she  would 


312  THE  CLAYBORNES 

be  free,  —  free,  with  the  secret  of  Lee's  scouts  in 
her  possession,  —  free  to  find  her  brother,  and  ride 
off  with  him  to  the  Union  lines,  for  he  must  come 
with  her,  she  was  determined.  Silently  she  came 
down,  her  eyes  fixed  intently  on  the  streak  of 
light  which  fell  athwart  the  floor.  She  longed  to 
spring  down  the  staircase  at  a  bound,  fling  open 
the  door,  and  rush  off  into  the  wood.  Such  a 
course  would  give  an  instant  alarm  and  insure  cap 
ture.  She  must  have  Frank,  then  ride  away  on 
Dolly's  back.  The  game  must  be  played  out  care 
fully  to  the  end. 

Kilby,  no  longer  drunk,  but  sober  and  alert,  had 
heard  a  rustling  noise  overhead,  followed  by  a  light 
step  on  the  stairs.  He  stole  quickly  out  into  the 
hallway,  and  as  Marjorie's  foot  touched  the  last 
stair  his  arm  wound  about  her  waist,  and  she  was 
held  a  prisoner,  with  the  brown  face  of  Kilby  look 
ing  down  into  hers.  If  she  could  have  driven  the 
knife  deep  into  him  and  flown  out  of  the  door,  she 
would  have  done  so  ;  but  holding  her  without  effort 
with  one  hand,  he  disarmed  her  with  the  other. 
She  tried  to  struggle,  but  it  was  fruitless.  She  was 
her  captor's  superior  in  brains,  in  spirit,  in  courage 
even,  for  he  might  have  yielded  under  conditions 
where  she  had  fought  on.  In  everything  but  brute 
force  did  she  surpass  him,  but  brute  force  held'the 
day  without  effort.  With  a  smile  upon  his  face, 
Kilby  drew  her  back  into  the  room. 

"  You  don't  look  much  like  Miss  Boyd  now.  I 
must  have  been  pretty  drunk,"  he  said  grimly. 


MARJORIE  WARE  AND  REGINA  BOWIE    313 

*'  And  so  you  have  been  in  the  house  all  the  time," 
he  added. 

During  these  terrible  moments  she  had  not 
spoken.  Kilby  had  taken  her  so  unawares,  so 
suddenly  had  her  hopes  of  flight  been  dispelled, 
that  she  could  only  struggle  in  desperation  to  ob 
tain  the  liberty  which  had  been  so  nearly  won. 
Now  she  looked  up  into  his  face,  and  putting  into 
her  voice  all  the  pleading  she  could  muster,  she 
said :  "  I  want  to  find  my  brother.  I  implore  you, 
if  ever  you  had  a  sister  —  let  me  go.  I  beseech 
you,  in  the  name  of  any  woman  whom  you  hold  in 
affection,  do  not  keep  me  from  him." 

Kilby  released  his  hold,  but  as  she  darted  toward 
the  door  his  big  form  blocked  the  way. 

"  Not  so  fast,"  he  said  quietly.  "  Who  is  your 
brother?" 

"  Francis  Ware,"  panted  Marjorie.  "  He  who 
just  left  the  house  a  few  moments  ago.  Quick !  let 
me  follow  him,  or  it  will  be  too  late  !  " 

Kilby  shook  his  head.  "  I  can't  until  I  know 
more  about  you.  You  have  been  hiding  in  the 
house,  perhaps  spying.  Have  you  been  listening 
at  keyholes  ?  " 

"  I  came  in  here  only  to  find  shelter  from  the 
storm.  I  swear  solemnly  I  will  never  reveal  a 
word  I  may  have  heard." 

"  Then  you  have  heard  something  ?  " 

"  I  will  never  open  my  mouth,  I  swear  to  you." 

Kilby  shook  his  head.  "  I  would  n't  trust  a 
woman  on  that  score,"  he  replied. 


314  THE  CLAYBORNES 

Clifford  Clayborne's  voice  was  heard  in  the 
hall. 

"  Now,  Regina,  we  must  be  off.  Remember 
where  to  send  to  me.  May  success  attend  you," 
and  Major  Clayborne  was  about  to  depart  when, 
looking  into  the  room,  he  stopped  in  surprise. 

"  What  have  we  here  —  a  petticoat !  "  he  ex 
claimed,  entering  the  room.  "  By  Jove,  what  have 
you  been  hiding,  Kilby  ?  And  such  a  pretty  one, 
too.  What 's  the  matter,  my  dear  ?  Has  Kilby 
been  treating  you  unkindly  ?  " 

"Oh,  sir,  as  you  are  a  gentleman,  let  me  go 
from  here,  I  beg  of  you !  " 

She  tried  to  dart  past  Kilby,  but  he  laid  a  re 
straining  arm  about  her. 

"  Hands  off,  Kilby,"  cried  Clifford  gayly, 
"  don't  you  see  the  lady  wants  to  come  to  me  ?  " 

"  I  wish  to  leave  the  house,"  repeated  Mar- 
jorie.  "  I  implore  you,  sir,  who  have  the  man 
ners  of  a  gentleman,  to  permit  me  to  go  in 
peace." 

At  a  peremptory  gesture  from  Clifford  Clay- 
borne,  Kilby  released  Marjorie.  "Let  me  per 
suade  you  to  stay,  my  love,"  said  Clifford,  gallantly 
coming  forward.  "  I  do  not  know  where  you  have 
come  from,  but  I  cannot  take  leave  of  such  a  pretty 
young  creature  so  coldly." 

"  Clifford,"  cried  Regina,  who  had  followed  him 
into  the  room  and  stood  behind  him  impatiently, 
"  what  can  you  be  thinking  of  to  waste  precious 
moments  like  the  present  at  such  nonsense !  Kilby, 


MAKJORIE  WARE  AND  REGINA  BOWIE    315 

how  did  this  young  woman  get  into  the  house? 
What  does  she  want  here  ?  " 

"  I  think  she  has  been  hiding  here  some  time," 
replied  Kilby.  "  I  am  afraid  she  has  been  spying 
on  us." 

"  Then  lock  her  up  where  she  can  do  no  harm. 
We  will  look  into  her  case  later.  There  is  no 
time  now,  as  we  all  must  be  about  our  duty." 

Kilby  started  to  obey  the  command.  "  I  '11  keep 
her  safe  in  one  of  the  rooms  under  lock  and  key," 
he  said  quietly. 

"  I  promise  faithfully  to  repeat  no  word  that  I 
have  heard,"  cried  Marjorie,  "  if  you  will  only  let 
me  go."  She  looked  at  Clifford  as  she  spoke. 

"  She  shall  go,"  cried  Clifford  suddenly.  "  We 
will  not  keep  the  little  girl  here.  She  can  do  no 
harm.  Let  her  out,  Kilby." 

"  Clifford  Clayborne  !  "  cried  Kegina  Bowie, 
"this  is  folly  on  your  part.  She  may  do  great 
harm.  She  may  have  overheard  all  that  we  have 
said.  We  cannot  afford  to  take  the  risk.  Kilby, 
do  as  I  command  !  " 

Clifford  sprang  forward,  his  eyes  flashing,  his 
handsome  face  all  aglow. 

"  Put  your  hand  on  that  girl  and  I  '11  brain  you, 
Kilby  !  "  he  cried. 

"  Clifford,  are  you  mad?  "  remonstrated  Regina, 
turning  from  red  to  white  with  anger.  "  Don't 
you  see  the  risk? " 

"  She  is  a  woman,"  replied  Clifford,  "  and  she 
has  asked  my  protection.  No  Clayborne  has  ever 


316  THE  CLAYBORNES 

refused  that  to  a  woman.  Let  her  go  from  here, 
Kilby  ! " 

His  voice,  manner,  and  every  gesture  were  so 
like  his  elder  brother's  that  Marjorie  seemed  to 
see  Gordon  there  before  her  saying :  — 

"  She  was  a  woman  and  I  could  not  hold  her  a 
prisoner." 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment.  Then  Regina 
took  up  the  word.  "  Would  you  injure  our  cause, 
Clifford,  in  the  hour  of  great  peril,  for  a  woman  ? 
—  for  a  woman,  too,  about  whom  you  know  no 
thing?  That  is  carrying  foolish  sentiment  too  far. 
In  the  name  of  your  duty,  I  implore  you  to  allow 
us  at  least  to  keep  this  girl  here  a  few  hours." 

Clifford  hesitated ;  then  turning  to  Kilby,  said 
abruptly :  — 

"  You  may  stay  here  and  keep  this  young  lady 
one  hour  —  not  a  moment  longer.  Then  let  her 
go  where  she  wills.  That  cannot  hurt  her.  Treat 
her  with  every  respect !  If  you  do  not,  you  shall 
answer  to  me,  and  the  reckoning  will  be  a  rough 
one,  I  assure  you.  Now  I  must  be  off.  Remem 
ber,  Kilby,  what  I  say  to  you.  Good-by,  Regina," 
and  turning,  he  hurriedly  left  the  room. 

Almost  to  the  very  door  of  the  house,  Francis 
Ware  had  brought  up  the  horses.  Clifford  sprang 
lightly  into  the  saddle  and  plunged  the  spurs  into 
his  horse.  "  We  must  make  up  for  lost  time, 
Ware,"  he  called  out  blithely  as  they  galloped 
rapidly  away. 

At  his  departure  Marjorie  felt  as  if  she  would 


MAEJORIE  WARE  AND  REGINA  BOWIE    317 

sink  to  the  floor,  but  at  the  sight  of  the  other 
woman  standing  before  her  she  drew  herself  up, 
and  a  look  of  anger  shone  in  her  eyes. 

"  Who  are  you,  where  did  you  come  from,  and 
what  do  you  here  ?  "  asked  Regina  Bowie  coldly. 

"  I  am  a  nurse  in  the  Union  army.  My  name 
is  Marjorie  Ware.  I  am  a  sister  of  Francis  Ware, 
whom  I  thought  dead,"  she  answered  bitterly. 

Regina  Bowie  started  with  surprise.  Before  she 
could  speak,  Marjorie  went  on :  "  And  you  are 
Flora  Dowd,  or  Regina  somebody.  You  have 
taken  my  brother  from  me,  and  it  was  you  who, 
when  a  prisoner,  induced  Major  Gordon  Clayborne 
to  let  you  escape." 

"  Yes,  I  am  Flora  Dowd,"  replied  Regina  coolly. 
"  Now  you  see  me,  what  do  you  think  of  me  ?  " 

"  I  hate  you,"  replied  Marjorie  vehemently. 
"  I  hate  you  as  I  never  thought  to  hate  a  human 
being." 

Regina  laughed.  "  You  are  Gordon  Clayborne's 
sweetheart,  I  suppose.  I  thought  he  must  have 
some  such  lodestone  in  the  North.  Well,  you  have 
captured  him  and  I  have  taken  your  brother. 
Honors  are  even  between  us,  are  they  not,  pretty 
Mistress  Marjorie  ?  " 

"  No,  not  yet.  Not  till  I  get  Frank  back  again," 
answered  Marjorie  firmly. 

Regina's  only  reply  was  a  glance  of  cool  defiance. 

"  Do  you  love  him  ?  "  cried  Marjorie. 

"Whom?     Gordon?" 

"  No.    My  brother,  Francis  Ware.    I  know  you 


318  THE  CLAYBORNES 

cannot  love  Gordon  Clayborne  or  you  would  never 
nave  injured  him." 

"  Oh,  Gordon  and  I  were  fond  of  each  other 
once,"  replied  Regina  with  irritating  indifference. 

"  I  do  not  believe  that,"  answered  Marjorie. 
"  I  know  he  does  not  care  for  you." 

"  Oh,  men  are  all  alike.  You  '11  find  that  out 
before  you  are  much  older.  You  have  already 
learned  to  play  upon  them  somewhat.  How  easily 
you  won  Major  Clifford  Clayborne  over.  I  quite 
admired  you." 

The  words  were  spoken  smilingly,  but  there  was 
a  caustic  ring  in  the  voice  which  rankled  in  Mar- 
jorie's  breast. 

"  Do  not  endow  me  with  the  artifices  which  are 
yours  by  nature  and  which  you  use  to  such  perfec 
tion,"  she  replied. 

The  young  women  glared  at  each  other.  They 
were  a  few  yards  apart.  Regina  Bowie  leaned 
carelessly  against  the  table,  flecking  her  riding- 
boots  with  a  whip  ;  perfectly  cool,  always  smiling, 
but  with  a  glitter  in  her  wondrous  dark  eyes  which 
boded  nothing  good  to  her  opponent.  Kilby  had 
retired  to  a  corner.  He  looked  at  Marjorie,  who 
stood  as  straight  and  tall  as  she  could,  her  mouth 
firmly  set,  her  bosom  heaving  with  the  emotions 
she  endeavored  to  control.  He  noted  Regina's 
handsome  and  more  dominant  figure,  and  contin 
ued  to  watch  them  both  with  deep  interest. 

When  Marjorie  spoke  again,  it  was  with  a  cool 
ness  which  equaled  that  of  her  formidable  rival. 


MARJORIE   WARE  AND  REGINA  BOWIE    319 

"  You  do  not  love  my  brother.  You  do  not  love 
any  one,  because  you  cannot." 

Regina  winced.  "  I  may  love  him  for  all  you 
can  tell,"  she  answered.  "  He  is  a  right  good  fel 
low." 

"You  cannot  love  him,"  Marjorie  laughed  bit 
terly,  "  or  you  would  not  kill  him  as  you  are  doing. 
If  you  did  care  for  him  you  would  send  him  back 
to  those  whom  he  has  deserted." 

"  I  will  never  do  that,"  replied  Regina  hotly. 
"  I  want  him  near  me." 

"  I  did  not  expect  that  you  would  give  him  up," 
and  again  Marjorie  laughed  in  the  same  bitter 
tone  which  irritated  the  other  woman.  "  And  yet 
you  could  drive  him  from  you  if  you  chose.  You 
could  show  him  that  side  of  you  which  would  break 
the  spell.  With  that  same  consummate  art  which 
you  use  to  enslave  him,  you  could  send  him  from 
you,  back  to  me." 

Regina' s  face  was  drawn  with  passion  as  she 
burst  forth:  "How  do  you  know  what  I  could 
do?" 

"Because  I  can  read  you,"  was  the  quiet  an 
swer.  "  I  can  see  through  your  art  as  if  it  were 
an  open  network." 

"  Then  you  can  read  that  I  will  not  do  it,"  said 
Regina,  recovering  her  composure. 

"  Will  nothing  induce  you  ?  " 

"  Nothing.    I  have  no  further  time  to  waste  with 

you." 

"  Listen  for  one  moment,"  cried  Marjorie  has- 


320  THE  CLAYBORNES 

tily,  as  Regina  Bowie  turned  away  with  a  shrug. 
"  The  time  may  soon  come  when  you  will  need 
assistance.  The  time  may  be  fast  approaching 
when  I  could  befriend  you.  If  you  will  only  do 
this  for  me,  if  you  will  only  send  my  brother  from 
you  and  give  him  back  to  me,  I  will  promise  to  be 
your  friend  always.  That  may  mean  much  more 
to  you  than  you  think  at  this  moment." 

The  other  woman  faced  quickly  about  with  a 
fierce  light  playing  in  her  eyes.  "  I  do  not  want 
your  friendship,  and  I  do  not  fear  your  enmity. 
You  thought  you  could  play  the  spy  here.  I  will 
teach  you  a  lesson  you  will  not  soon  forget.  I  will 
prevent  your  doing  us  any  harm.  You  shall  be 
kept  a  prisoner.  You  shall  be  locked  in  this 
house  and  Kilby's  men  shall  be  your  custodians." 

There  was  a  look  of  hatred  in  the  woman's  eyes. 
There  was  a  ring  in  her  voice  which  told  that  she 
was  in  earnest.  Marjorie  could  not  answer.  She 
could  not  find  a  word  to  ask  for  clemency.  She 
sank  overpowered  into  a  chair.  Regina  turned 
from  her  and  spoke  to  Kilby,  giving  a  few  brief 
commands.  Then  she  walked  out  of  the  house 
without  giving  another  look  in  the  direction  of  her 
fallen  foe. 

Marjorie  raised  her  face  imploringly  towards 
Kilby.  "  You  remember  the  orders  of  Major  Clif 
ford  Clayborne  —  you  will  obey  them  will  you 
not  ?  "  she  faltered. 

"  I  reckon  I  'd  best  obey  Miss  Dowd's  orders," 
he  answered  doggedly. 


MARJORIE  WARE  AND  REGINA  BOWIE    321 

With  a  cry  Marjorie  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands,  and  remained  silent. 

Kilby  went  to  the  door.  "  You  shall  be  well 
cared  for,  miss,"  he  said  clumsily.  Then  the  key 
turned  in  the  lock  and  she  was  left  alone. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

RICHMOND 

CLIFFORD  CLAYBORNE  and  Francis  Ware,  hav 
ing  ridden  in  silence  for  some  distance,  halted. 
The  major  gave  an  order  to  the  younger  man  and 
the  pair  separated,  leaving  Clifford  Clayborne  to 
ride  alone  towards  Richmond.  He  had  been  in  the 
saddle  all  the  day  before  ;  he  had  not  taken  one 
minute's  rest  that  night ;  with  the  exception  of  the 
hastily  swallowed  meal  at  the  house  in  the  woods, 
he  had  not  tasted  food  for  twenty-four  hours,  but 
he  knew  there  was  work  ahead,  and  in  the  early 
gray  of  the  morning  he  pressed  on  towards  the 
city. 

While  Lee's  army  was  defending  Richmond,  the 
Clayborne  troopers  had  been  doing  scout  duty  in 
the  surrounding  country.  Colonel  Joseph  Clay- 
borne,  rather  than  give  up  his  command,  had  re 
fused  promotion.  "  I  can  handle  a  regiment  of 
horse,"  he  said,  "  but  damme  if  I  care  to  under 
take  more.  Drive  at  the  enemy  whenever  he 
conies  in  sight ;  raid  him  ;  harass  him ;  break  his 
lines  of  communication ;  carry  off  liis  supplies ; 
play  the  very  old  Nick  with  him  generally,  —  that 
is  all  I  understand  of  warfare.  I  leave  the  plan- 


RICHMOND  323 

ning  of  campaigns  and  the  grand  tactics  to  other 
heads.  I  've  ridden  with  these  boys  through  the 
war.  I  've  eaten  with  'em  and  I  've  starved 
with  'em,  I  Ve  marched  with  'em  and  I  've  slept 
by  'em,  I  've  drilled  'em  and  I  've  sworn  at  'em, 
and  damn  'em  if  God  spares  my  life  we  '11  fight  it 
out  together  to  the  end ;  "  and  so  they  did  fight  it 
out  to  the  end  —  those  whose  lives  were  spared ; 
but  the  ranks  were  thin,  and  the  regiment  had 
faded  to  a  skeleton  of  its  former  grandeur  long 
before  the  end  was  reached. 

Through  the  darkest  days  none  carried  a  stouter 
or  lighter  heart  than  Clifford  Clayborne.  Through 
storm  or  sun,  through  wet  or  cold  or  heat,  through 
camp  or  battle,  victory  or  defeat,  that  heart  never 
failed.  Never  once  doubting  the  justice  of  his  cause, 
never  once  doubting  the  wisdom  and  power  of  his 
leader,  he  pushed  on  unhesitatingly  towards  the 
final  goal,  which  to  him  meant  ultimate  triumph. 
And  if  at  any  time  the  thought  of  possible  defeat 
crept  for  a  moment  into  his  brain,  he  knew  but 
one  alternative,  —  to  "  die  game."  Therefore  with 
the  last  ditch  in  sight  to  all  whose  eyes  were  clear, 
Clifford  Clayborne,  on  this  Sunday  morning,  the 
second  day  of  April,  rode  cheerfully  back  towards 
Richmond.  He  knew  the  town  must  soon  be  evac 
uated,  but  to  him  this  did  not  mean  surrender.  To 
him  the  civil  government  of  the  Confederacy  had 
long  since  passed  into  nothingness.  For  him  the 
seat  of  government,  the  source  of  power,  was  in  the 
Army  of  Northern  Virginia — the  army  which  had 


324  THE  CLAYBORNES 

so  often  carried  the  banners  of  the  South  to  vic 
tory,  that  had  unflinchingly  faced  disaster,  that 
had  been  forced  back  by  overwhelming  numbers, 
but  which,  like  some  old  bear  besieged  by  hunters, 
had  retired  without  flight,  striking  down  those  who 
came  too  near  in  the  pursuit,  with  spirit  yet  un 
tamed  and  courage  undismayed.  As  he  rode  Clif 
ford  Clay  borne  sang  blithely  a  fragment  from  one 
of  his  favorite  poems  :  — 

"  Ours  is  no  sapling,  chance-sown  by  the  fountain, 

Blooming  at  Beltane,  in  winter  to  fade ; 

When  the  whirlwind  has  stripped  every  leaf  on  the  mountain, 
The  more  shall  Clan-Alpine  exult  in  her  shade. 

Moored  in  the  rifted  rock, 

Proof  to  the  tempest's  shock, 
Firmer  he  roots  him  the  ruder  it  blow; 

Menteith  and  Breadalbane,  then, 

Echo  his  praise  again, 
Roderigh  Vich  Alpine  dhu,  ho  !  ieroe  !  " 

"  Firmer  he  roots  him  the  ruder  it  blow,"  cried 
Clifford.  "  We  will  take  our  stand  by  his  side  as 
long  as  we  have  strength  to  lift  a  sword.  We  will 
echo  his  praise  as  long  as  we  have  breath  to  sound 
a  note." 

Was  ever  a  lost  cause  more  nobly  fought !  Was 
ever  a  lost  cause  more  valiantly  lost !  Were  ever 
courage,  honor,  and  treasure  more  lavishly  poured 
forth  than  by  these  brave,  unyielding  cavaliers 
who  took  their  stand  upon  a  hopeless  ground,  and 
stubbornly  fought  there  to  the  end  ! 

Clifford  whistled  and  sang  as  he  rode  along ; 
he  could  no  more  repress  his  spirit  than  he  could 


RICHMOND  325 

* 

keep  from  breathing,  yet  he  kept  a  sharp  eye  on 
each  side  and  in  front.  Mounted  on  his  fleet 
horse  he  had  no  need  to  fear  anything  behind. 
The  country  was  full  of  Northern  scouts.  Dressed 
in  Confederate  gray,  they  were  actively  keeping  the 
Union  chieftains  well  informed  as  to  the  movements 
of  their  enemies.  Clifford  Clayborne,  alert,  well 
mounted,  and  confident  in  his  knowledge  of  the 
surrounding  country,  feared  them  not. 

Ah1  day  Clifford  rode,  stopping  in  the  woods  to 
rest  for  a  spare  hour  at  noon,  and  to  gnaw  a 
chicken  bone  which  he  had  stored  away  in  his 
saddle-bag.  It  was  towards  a  late  hour  in  the 
afternoon  when  horse  and  rider,  travel-stained  and 
weary,  heard  a  startling  noise  coming  towards 
them.  Both  pricked  up  their  ears  and  listened. 

Clifford  ceased  his  whistling  and  sprang  from 
his  horse,  keen  as  a  young  Indian.  The  sound  of 
men  approaching  in  force  had  reached  his  ears. 
With  the  bridle  over  his  arm  he  knelt  in  the  road, 
his  ear  to  the  ground.  He  raised  his  head  with  a 
puzzled  expression.  It  was  not  the  measured  tread 
of  marching  columns,  but  the  irregular  tramp  of 
many  feet ;  it  was  the  rattle  of  wheels,  but  not 
the  heavy  rumble  of  artillery  wagons ;  it  was  the 
clatter  of  hoofs,  but  not  the  swing  of  a  cavalry 
regiment.  Clifford  Clayborne  vaulted  into  the 
saddle  and  galloped  into  the  woods  for  a  few  hun 
dred  yards,  where  he  dismounted  and  waited. 

Down  the  road  came  a  man  on  horseback. 
Vehicles  of  every  sort  followed  in  his  wake,  —  ex- 


326  THE  CLAYBORNES 

press  carts  and  farm  wagons,  barouches  and  light 
carriages  filled  with  women  and  children  ;  house 
hold  goods  and  chattels ;  all  the  assets  that  they 
had  been  able  to  scrape  together,  all  the  little 
patrimony  they  could  save.  Richmond  had  fallen 
and  this  was  the  rout.  Clifford  leaped  again  to  his 
saddle  and  soon  reached  the  man  on  horseback. 
He  was  an  aged  negro.  He  bestrode  a  raw  boned 
steed  which  even  the  conscription  had  overlooked. 
A  handsome  roll  of  Brussels  carpet  served  him 
for  a  saddle,  while  his  bridle  was  a  piece  of  rope. 
Behind  him,  drawn  by  a  pair  of  poor  spavined 
beasts,  wheeled  a  fine  carriage  holding  a  woman 
and  two  children,  while  piled  deep  about  them 
were  the  few  effects  that  had  been  hastily  gath 
ered  together  by  a  faithful  though  indiscriminat- 
ing  hand.  A  handsome  mirror  and  a  feather 
bed,  a  coal  scuttle  and  an  expensive  French  clock, 
a  little  clothing  and  some  family  silver  —  amid 
these  relics  of  past  grandeur  sat  a  pale-faced  wo 
man,  young  and  beautiful,  surveying  the  scene 
with  stern  features  and  dry  eyes.  Her  husband 
had  fallen  early  in  the  war,  one  brother  was  in  the 
hospital,  another  was  with  Lee.  She  had  given 
her  heart's  nearest  and  dearest,  and  seen  them 
swept  away.  She  had  given  her  money  for  the 
cause.  She  had  taken  the  carpets  from  her  floors 
and  made  them  into  coats  for  the  soldiers.  She 
had  denied  herself  the  necessities  of  life  that  those 
who  fought  might  have  a  little  more ;  and  now 
with  a  handful  of  her  belongings,  with  two  small 


RICHMOND  327 

children,  she  still  faced  the  world  with  unconquered 
spirit. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  uncle?"  inquired  Clif 
ford,  drawing  his  blooded  horse  up  beside  the 
broken-down  nag  of  the  old  negro.  He  spoke 
gayly,  but  even  his  light  heart  felt  a  pang  at  the 
sight  before  him. 

"  Siftin'  souf,  sar,  siftin'  souf.  I  'se  got  my 
folks  to  tote  souf.  Marse  lef  his  family  in  ma 
care,  an'  I'se  totin'  'em  souf  for  safety." 

Clifford  Clayborne  rode  up  to  the  carriage,  and 
for  a  moment  leaned  over  the  side.  The  woman 
was  known  to  him.  Many  a  time  in  better  days 
had  she,  as  a  young  girl,  danced  with  him,  laughed 
with  him,  and  listened  to  his  amusing  conversation. 
Now  he  spoke  seriously,  but  with  the  same  cheer 
ful  ring  to  his  voice.  They  were  only  a  few  words 
of  encouragement,  but  they  came  from  a  heart 
which  no  disaster  could  subdue.  The  lady  looked 
up  into  his  face  and  smiled.  Clayborne  raised  his 
hat  gracefully  and  drew  away,  passing  along  the 
line  of  fugitives  who  were  "  siftin'  souf."  There 
were  few  good  horses  among  them  and  fewer  men. 
Every  horse  and  man  the  South  could  spare  were 
doing  service  in  the  war.  Clifford  shut  his  teeth 
together  firmly  and  rode  on  towards  Richmond. 

A  thick  column  of  smoke  rolled  up  before  him 
as  he  went  through  the  city  streets.  On  each  side 
burned  warehouses,  stores,  and  residences.  Crowds 
of  people  filled  the  streets,  wild-eyed  with  excite 
ment,  a  struggling,  pushing  mass  of  humanity. 


328  THE  CLAYBORNES 

Among  them  all  Clifford  did  not  see  one  face  he 
knew. 

"  Are  the  Yankees  in  the  city  ?  '•'  shouted  Clif 
ford  to  a  young  man  who  appeared  cooler  headed 
than  others  around  him. 

"  Not  yet,  but  they  will  be  in  another  twelve 
hours,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Then  who  set  fire  to  all  this  ? "  asked  Clay- 
borne,  pointing  to  a  tobacco  warehouse  on  his  left 
which  sent  up  dense  volumes  of  thick,  stifling 
smoke. 

"  That  was  done  by  General  Ewell's  order. 
President  Davis  and  his  cabinet  have  gone,  and  we 
are  under  martial  law.  The  order  is  to  leave 
nothing  for  the  damned  Yankees  to  lay  their 
hands  on." 

Clifford  smiled  at  the  load  of  goods  the  youth 
was  carrying  on  his  shoulders. 

"  Have  n't  you  got  more  clothes  than  you  can 
comfortably  wear  ?  "  he  asked  jocosely. 

"  Not  more  'n  I  can  carry,  anyway  ;  go  in  and 
help  yourself,"  he  replied,  jerking  his  thumb  over 
his  shoulder  at  a  store  which  was  being  looted. 
"  Everything  is  free  now,"  and  he  darted  up  a  side 
street. 

Clifford  rode  up  the  main  thoroughfare.  Dire 
confusion  reigned  supreme.  A  howling,  uncon 
trolled  mob  filled  every  square.  Barrels  of  whiskey, 
rolled  out  into  the  gutter,  were  broached  there  and 
their  contents  drunk  as  it  ran.  Along  the  river 
front  the  sky  was  lurid  with  exploding  gunboats, 


RICHMOND  329 

while  bells  pealing  in  disunion  added  their  discord 
to  the  pandemonium  of  noise. 

Clifford  Clayborne  reached  the  War  Depart 
ment.  The  building  was  almost  deserted,  but  in 
one  of  the  rooms  he  found  the  honorable  secre 
tary  of  war,  tipping  back  in  a  chair,  his  mustache 
dipped  into  a  glass  of  whiskey. 

"  Hello,  Clayborne,"  was  the  greeting.  "  You  've 
just  about  time  to  take  a  nip  and  be  off  if  you 
don't  want  the  Yanks  to  get  you." 

Clifford  saluted  hurriedly.  "  Can  I  have  pen 
and  paper  for  a  few  minutes,  Mr.  Breckinridge  ?  " 
he  asked. 

Breckinridge  nodded  towards  a  desk.  "  Help 
yourself,  my  boy.  I  don't  think  we  '11  use  much 
more  of  it  here.  The  Yanks  are  welcome  to  our 
official  paper." 

"  May  I  ask  when  President  Davis  left  the  city, 
Mr.  Breckinridge?"  inquired  Clifford  Clayborne, 
writing  steadily. 

"  This  morning,  during  church,"  was  the  reply. 
"  The  cabinet  has  adjourned  to  Danville,"  Breck 
inridge  laughed  gruffly.  "  I  'm  going  to  join  them 
there.  I  stayed  here  and  tried  to  prevent  Ewell 
from  burning  up  everything,  but  he  's  been  raising 
more  hell  than  all  the  Yankee  shells ; "  and  the 
secretary  of  war  of  the  Southern  Confederacy 
grimly  drank  his  whiskey.  Clifford  handed  a 
paper  yet  wet  from  his  pen  to  the  war  secretary. 

"  There  's  a  report,  Secretary  Breckinridge,  of 
an  interview  with  one  of  our  best  scouts.  It  con- 


330  THE  CLAYBORNES 

tains  some  information  of  moment  and  will  be  of 
interest  to  the  President.  I  shall  take  one  copy 
of  it  to  General  Lee." 

Breckinridge  stuffed  the  paper  into  his  pocket 
in  silence. 

"  And  now  as  there  is  nothing  more  for  me  to 
do  here  I  may  as  well  be  off,"  exclaimed  Clifford, 
rising  up  as  abruptly  as  he  had  come  in.  "  Good- 
day  to  you,  Mr.  Secretary.  Have  you  any  mes 
sage  to  send  to  General  Lee  ?  "  he  added,  pausing 
on  the  threshold. 

The  secretary  of  war  stopped  with  a  plug  of 
tobacco  in  his  hand  on  the  way  to  his  mouth. 
"  Damn  me,  Clayborne,  if  I  have  anything  to  say. 
If  there  is  anything  to  be  done  I  am  sure  Lee  will 
do  it ;  as  for  me,  like  Othello,  my  occupation  is  no 
more,"  and  Clifford  Clayborne  left  the  war  secre 
tary  chewing  the  cud  of  bitter  reflection. 

"  The  Yankees  will  be  in  possession  of  the  city 
within  twelve  hours,  perhaps  before,"  mused  Clif 
ford  to  himself.  "  My  horse  is  beaten  out  and  I 
am  half  dead.  1  '11  stable  the  poor  beast  and  take 
a  few  hours'  sleep  myself.  Come  what  may,  I  '11 
be  fresher  to  meet  it."  Speaking  thus  he  went 
quietly  off  to  the  Clayborne  homestead. 

The  stables  which  had  once  contained  long 
rows  of  horses  were  empty  and  desolate.  Clifford 
turned  his  charger  into  one  of  the  box-stalls,  and 
scraping  together  a  little  grain,  fed  and  watered 
the  handsome  brute.  "  You  've  got  your  work  cut 
out  for  you,  my  beauty,"  said  Clifford,  putting  his 


RICHMOND  331 

hand  affectionately  on  the  animal's  neck,  "  and  you 
shall  have  the  best  there  is  as  long  as  it  holds 
out." 

As  if  in  answer  the  horse  poked  his  soft  nose 
under  the  master's  arm.  Clifford  stroked  it.  "  I 
know  you  will,  Dixie  ;  you  '11  do  your  best  with  us 
all." 

Clifford's  spurs  clanked  loudly  through  the  halls 
of  the  family  mansion.  He  had  been  home  a 
number  of  times  since  the  beginning  of  the  war, 
and  each  time  found  the  house  awaiting  him  just 
as  he  had  left  it.  No  one  in  Richmond  would 
have  put  a  hand  upon  any  of  Colonel  Joseph  Clay- 
borne's  belongings.  Clifford  looked  about  him  at 
each  familiar  piece  of  furniture.  "  In  another 
twenty-four  hours  there  won't  be  a  stick  of  this 
which  we  can  call  ours,"  he  mattered  ;  and  throw 
ing  himself  down  upon  the  bed  in  his  own  room  he 
fell  into  a  deep  sleep. 

It  was  nearly  morning  when  he  awoke.  The 
faint  tinge  of  red  was  appearing  in  the  eastern  sky. 
Clifford  opened  his  eyes  and  watched  it  sleepily. 
He  felt  that  he  could  slumber  on  indefinitely ; 
then  rousing  himself  with  an  effort,  he  sprang  from 
the  bed,  and  plunging  his  face  into  cool  water  was 
refreshed  and  wide  awake  on  the  instant.  There 
was  not  a  morsel  of  food  in  the  house,  but  he  still 
had  a  bit  of  bread  in  his  saddle-bag.  This  he  ate 
hastily,  in  cheerful  ignorance  as  to  whence  the 
next  meal  was  to  come.  Why  should  he  worry 
about  food  and  sleep  ?  Perhaps  before  the  day  was 


332  THE  CLAYBORNES 

over  he  would  be  lying  with  many  others,  beyond 
the  need  of  human  nourishment  and  rest.  Never 
theless,  he  carefully  stuffed  into  his  saddle-bag 
what  grain  he  could  for  his  beast. 

Time  pressed  unless  he  wished  to  spend  the 
remainder  of  the  days  of  war  as  a  prisoner ;  and 
although  Clifford  Clayborne  had  no  intention  of 
doing  this,  he  again  went  into  the  house.  Re 
turning  with  a  box  full  of  the  family  silver,  he 
buried  it  in  the  orchard  under  a  budding  fruit-tree. 
"  Better  a  little  than  nothing  out  of  a  wreck," 
he  said  to  himself  as  he  filled  in  the  dirt,  "  and  a 
little  may  mean  a  good  deal  in  the  days  to  come." 
Marking  the  spot  with  his  eye,  he  sprang  into 
the  saddle  and  was  away  and  out  of  the  city  to 
rejoin  Lee's  army. 

With  the  dawn  of  day  forty  United  States 
troopers  galloped  in  and  took  possession  of  a  city 
which  had  defied  an  army.  Grant  did  not  stop 
to  examine  the  empty  shell,  but  pressed  after  the 
Army  of  Northern  Virginia.  The  great  hunt  was 
still  on,  and  the  quarry  slipping  away. 

Leaving  the  south  road,  Clifford  Clayborne 
struck  out  to  the  west.  Both  horse  and  man  were 
as  fresh  as  the  spring  morning.  Clifford  knew 
that  the  surrounding  country  was  full  of  Federal 
troopers ;  at  any  moment  a  detachment  of  Sher 
idan's  men  might  come  riding  along  the  road.  But 
he  knew  every  inch  of  the  ground.  He  was  fa 
miliar  with  every  highway  and  byway  for  miles 
around.  He  had  small  fear  of  capture.  He  left 


RICHMOND  333 

the  main  road  and  took  a  lane  through  the  woods. 
It  was  little  traveled  and  was  overgrown  with 
grass  and  weeds.  He  allowed  his  horse  to  drop 
into  a  walk,  catching  here  and  there  a  mouthful  of 
the  tender  branches  of  young  trees  on  either  side 
of  the  lane.  Clifford,  himself  drawing  in  deep 
draughts  of  the  fragrant  air,  gave  a  rapid  mental 
survey  of  his  plans.  He  had  in  his  possession  in 
formation  which  could  only  be  of  value  if  delivered 
immediately  into  the  hands  of  the  commander-in- 
chief.  He  regretted  the  delay  occasioned  by  his 
return  to  Richmond  ;  he  begrudged  the  hours  spent 
in  sleep.  They  had  been  imperative,  however,  for 
both  himself  and  Dixie.  Without  rest  they  would 
have  been  powerless.  Now  they  were  better  able  to 
cope  with  the  difficulties  before  them.  A  few  hours 
more  in  the  saddle  and  his  present  charge  would  be 
performed.  Then  for  further  duties.  No  exertion 
would  be  too  great,  no  danger  would  appall  him. 

"  Halt !  "  cried  a  sharp  voice. 

From  behind  the  trees  on  his  right  stepped  three 
men  dressed  in  Federal  blue,  their  muskets  cover 
ing  Clifford  Clayborne's  breast.  Quick  as  a  flash 
Clifford  rose  in  the  saddle. 

"  Throw  down  your  arms  and  surrender ! "  he 
cried  with  authority. 

His  audacity  caused  them  to  hesitate.  The 
young  Southerner  wheeled  his  horse,  and  with  one 
dash  of  the  spurs  sent  him  flying  off  into  the 
woods.  A  sharp  volley  followed  him,  the  bullets 
singing  about  his  ears  and  pattering  through  the 


334  THE   CLAYBORNES 

leaves.  Clifford  waved  his  hat  tantalizingly  and 
disappeared  through  the  trees,  Dixie  running  like 
a  deer  when  it  hears  the  baying  of  the  hounds. 

"  We  must  not  be  caught  napping  again,  old 
boy,"  exclaimed  Clifford,  when  once  out  of  range. 
"  It  would  be  a  damned  shame  to  escape  being 
killed  in  battle  and  then  to  be  shot  like  a  rat  in 
a  trap." 

With  renewed  caution  Clifford  continued  on  his 
way.  He  avoided  all  roads  and  beaten  tracks,  and 
like  an  Indian  on  the  trail  made  his  way  warily 
through  the  woods.  More  than  once,  peering 
through  the  trees  to  the  highway,  he  saw  long  lines 
of  marching  blue.  More  than  once  he  heard  the 
clatter  of  hoofs  with  the  jingle  of  sabre  and  spur. 
A  general  of  brigade  passed  so  near  that  Clifford 
could  have  dropped  him  with  a  shot  from  his  re 
volver.  It  was  a  tempting,  shining  mark ;  but 
although  scouring  the  woods  like  an  Indian,  Clay- 
boriie  did  not  fight  like  one.  The  general  officer 
passed  safely  by.  Clifford  waited  until  the  entire 
brigade  had  marched  on,  then  slipping  across  the 
road,  he  and  Dixie  cut  merrily  through  the  woods, 
and  soon,  passing  the  enemy,  preceded  them  by 
many  a  mile.  Thus  he  rejoined  Lee's  army  in 
safety,  delivered  his  papers,  embraced  his  father, 
and  supping  on  a  biscuit  and  a  few  handfuls  of 
parched  corn,  was  soon  sleeping  peacefully  on  the 
ground  among  his  own  battle-worn  troopers,  with 
as  clear  a  conscience  and  as  sound  a  body  as  any 
soldier  who  ever  bore  arms. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

AT   THE    STONE    BRIDGE 

THERE  was  work  for  the  Clayborne  troop  to  do. 
"  The  cavalry  is  the  eye  of  an  army ; "  and  the 
Army  of  Northern  Virginia,  hemmed  in  on  every 
side,  with  the  coil  being  drawn  closer  and  tighter 
every  moment,  had  double  use  for  all  its  eyes. 
Before  daylight  boots  and  saddles  sounded  and  the 
men  were  in  motion.  Clifford,  who  had  washed  his 
face  in  a  muddy  pool,  had  not  yet  broken  his  fast 
because  there  was  nothing  more  to  eat.  So  he  rode 
with  his  battalion  ;  like  a  true  soldier  of  fortune 
dismissing  all  thought  of  breakfast  and  waiting  for 
an  opportunity  to  dine.  This  came  to  him  sooner 
than  he  had  dared  hope.  A  young  wild  turkey 
rose  with  a  cry  from  its  cover  in  the  woods,  and 
sailing  over  their  heads  swept  out  in  plain  view 
over  an  adjoining  field.  Quick  as  thought  Clifford 
snatched  the  carbine  from  a  trooper's  hand  and 
shot  the  bird  on  the  wing.  The  creature,  wounded, 
fell  to  the  ground  and  trailed  across  the  fields  in 
an  attempt  to  escape.  A  touch  of  the  spurs,  and 
Dixie  cleared  the  fence  with  a  bound.  Off  across 
the  ploughed  ground  rode  Clifford  in  pursuit  of  his 
meal,  while  the  men  encouraged  him  with  cheers 


336  THE  CLAYBORNES 

and  laughter.  The  race  was  uneven ;  the  man 
overtook  the  hunted  bird.  Leaning  low  in  the  sad 
dle  he  caught  it  up  from  the  ground,  and  with  a 
twist  of  the  neck  put  the  poor  creature  out  of  pain 
and  secured  his  own  dinner,  which  he  brought  tri 
umphantly  back  at  his  saddle-bow. 

Thus  did  the  Clayborne  troopers  live.  When 
they  got  food  they  ate,  and  when  they  lacked  it 
they  went  without.  It  was  much  simpler  to  travel 
unhampered  by  either  base  of  supplies  or  commis 
sary  department ;  and  if  the  method  had  its  dis 
advantages,  the  men  made  a  virtue  of  necessity  and 
fed  or  starved  as  fortune  decreed. 

Night  found  the  Clayborne  troopers  still  in  the 
saddle.  The  day  had  not  been  uneventful.  They 
had  captured  a  wagon  train  of  provisions.  They 
had  taken  a  few  score  of  prisoners ;  from  the 
former  they  replenished  their  empty  haversacks ; 
from  the  latter  they  extracted  what  information 
they  could  as  to  the  movements  of  the  enemy. 
There  was  a  jubilant  air  about  these  prisoners, 
an  augury  of  victory  which  caused  Colonel  Joe 
to  exercise  a  quality  for  which  he  was  not  usually 
noted,  —  caution.  He  felt  convinced  that  this 
handful  of  men  were  the  outriders  of  a  larger 
force,  for  in  spite  of  having  fallen  into  a  snare 
they  maintained  the  assurance  of  victors. 

Colonel  Clayborne  fed  his  men  heartily,  and 
made  preparations  for  the  night  with  unusual  care. 
He  put  out  a  double  line  of  pickets,  sent  out  scouts 
on  every  side,  and  gave  orders  that  every  man 


AT  THE  STONE  BRIDGE  337 

should  sleep  with  his  horse  tethered  to  his  arm. 
At  the  first  warning  note  the  Clayborne  troop 
must  be  ready  for  action. 

Clifford  Clayborne  noticed  with  interest  that  his 
riding  within  the  past  forty-eight  hours  had  been 
in  a  circuit ;  he  now  saw  that  the  troop  was  within 
a  mile  of  the  "  cross-roads."  He  at  once  dispatched 
scouts  to  watch  this  point,  and  report  whether  the 
enemy  was  approaching  by  any  of  the  bisecting 
roads.  More  familiar  with  the  region  than  any 
man  in  the  regiment,  Clifford  had  been  intrusted 
with  the  selection  of  the  site  for  bivouac,  and  he 
chose  a  spot  admirably  guarded  against  surprises. 
It  was  in  a  wooded  ravine  through  which  ran 
a  brawling  stream  swollen  with  the  spring  rains. 
Directly  in  front  of  them  the  road  traversed  an 
old  stone  bridge.  No  force  could  approach  them 
without  first  crossing  this  narrow  way.  The  noise 
of  the  rushing  stream  drowned  all  ordinary  sounds, 
but  the  many  quick-eared,  keen-eyed  men  sent  out 
on  every  side  would  be  able  to  sound  the  alarm 
long  before  any  danger  could  come  near. 

Colonel  Joseph  Clayborne  and  his  son,  rendered 
delightfully  comfortable  and  warm  inside  by  a  gen 
erous  supply  of  the  enemy's  bacon  and  coffee,  sat 
smoking  their  pipes  in  quiet  companionship. 

This  family  communion  had  lasted  but  a  short 
time  when  a  rider  appeared  through  the  darkness 
over  the  bridge.  He  was  closely  followed  by  an 
other.  These  men  reported  hastily  to  their  colonel. 
Quickly  casting  aside  their  pipes  and  their  ease, 


338  THE  CLAYBORNES 

the  Clayborne  troopers  sprang  to  the  saddle,  and 
at  an  order  from  their  chief  waited  in  the  shadow 
of  the  ravine.  Fast  came  the  scouts  with  the  re 
port  that  the  enemy  was  approaching  in  force,  pre 
ceded  by  a  detachment  of  mounted  men.  Colonel 
Clayborne  drew  his  men  up  across  the  road  before 
the  bridge  and  waited.  There  were  only  five  hun 
dred  of  them,  but  they  were  in  the  possession  of  a 
strategic  point. 

"  Boys,"  said  the  colonel,  "  the  Yankees  are  ap 
proaching  in  force.  We  've  got  a  good  point  of 
defense,  and  we  must  hold  them  in  check  for  a 
while.  They  '11  think  all  hell  has  broken  loose 
when  they  try  to  cross  this  bridge." 

No  other  course  than  that  of  fighting  entered 
the  head  of  the  old  colonel.  He  dispatched  a  man 
to  his  conimander-in-chief,  informing  him  as  to 
what  was  about  to  take  place,  and  then  waited 
calmly.  Another  scout  brought  in  word  that  the 
approaching  men  numbered  one  thousand,  and  that 
they  were  leading  the  main  column  by  a  good  bit. 
Clayborne  smiled  grimly.  "  The  careless  cusses  ! 
so  much  the  better  for  us,"  was  all  he  said. 

The  colonel  was  right.  "  All  hell "  did  break 
loose  in  the  canon  when  the  Union  force  set  foot 
upon  the  bridge. 

With  the  "  rebel  yell "  the  Clayborne  troop 
dashed  forward.  In  the  dim  light  it  was  impos 
sible  for  the  Federals  to  tell  the  size  of  the  foe 
which  had  attacked  them  so  suddenly,  but  they 
were  fresh  from  recent  success.  The  rebel  yell 


AT  THE  STONE  BRIDGE  339 

was  answered  by  the  Union  cheer,  and  a  close  hand 
to  hand  fight  ensued.  Only  a  small  portion  of  the 
men  on  either  side  could  be  engaged.  These  fought 
fiercely  for  the  possession  of  the  bridge. 

At  such  a  time  as  this  Colonel  Clayborne  was  a 
leader  who  would  rush  in  where  the  blows  were 
thickest.  He  would  have  been  knocked  on  the 
head  a  dozen  times  in  the  course  of  his  career 
had  not  a  bodyguard  of  devoted  followers  always 
made  it  their  duty  to  protect  him,  and  sometimes 
drag  him  bodily  to  the  rear.  Now  the  old  fellow, 
swearing  like  the  trooper  he  was,  charged  into  the 
thickest  of  the  skirmish,  and  laid  about  him  like 
a  blacksmith  sweating  at  his  anvil.  The  Union 
men  by  sheer  force  of  numbers  carried  the  bridge, 
to  find  themselves  confronted  by  the  rest  of  the 
Confederate  force.  The  melee  became  general, 
and  with  odds  at  two  to  one  the  Clayborne  horse 
were  slowly  forced  backward. 

Clifford  Clayborne,  mounted  upon  his  finest 
horse,  seemed  to  be  an  especial  mark  for  the 
Union  riders.  Two  men  had  forced  him  a  hun 
dred  yards  along  the  bank  of  the  stream,  and 
were  on  the  point  of  closing  in  upon  him  when  the 
horse  of  one  of  them  slipped  and  threw  his  rider. 
With  a  yell,  Clifford  rode  at  his  remaining  adver 
sary.  With  an  answering  shout  the  Union  offi 
cer  met  his  attack  halfway.  The  two  men  were 
equally  matched.  The  Federal  was  the  larger, 
Clifford  was  the  better  mounted.  Back  and  forth 
along  the  bank  of  the  stream  they  struggled,  fen- 


340  THE  CLAYBORNES 

cing  more  by  the  sense  of  touch  than  sight  in  the 
dim  light  of  evening.  Both  were  superb  horse 
men,  and  their  spirited  animals  wheeled  and  circled 
at  the  touch  of  the  spur  and  bridle,  sometimes  in 
dire  peril  of  falling  over  the  bank  into  the  water. 

It  was  a  fight  to  the  end  between  these  two,  now 
isolated  from  the  combat  going  on  a  little  distance 
beyond.  Twice  Clifford's  sword  touched  his  ad 
versary  slightly,  while  he  himself  was  unscathed. 
Still  the  Union  man  struck  back  vigorously  until 
his  sword  broke  at  the  hilt.  With  a  cry  of  exulta 
tion  Clifford  raised  his  own  sword  to  strike  again. 
Before  it  could  descend  to  do  its  final  work  his 
wrist  was  caught  in  the  grasp  of  the  other's  right. 
There  was  a  twist,  and  Clifford's  own  weapon  was 
thrown  from  his  hand.  Unarmed,  the  two  men 
grappled  with  each  other  in  fury.  A  sudden 
plunge  of  his  horse,  and  the  Union  man  was  thrown 
from  the  saddle,  dragging  Clifford  with  him. 

Down  the  bank  the  two  struggling  human  be 
ings  rolled  into  the  swiftly  flowing  water.  There 
Clifford  shook  himself  free  from  the  grasp  of  his 
antagonist,  and  rising  to  the  surface  struck  out  to 
regain  the  shore.  The  current  was  swift,  and  had 
instantly  whirled  the  two  men  out  into  the  middle 
of  the  stream.  Clifford  was  uninjured,  and  a 
strong  swimmer  he  succeeded  in  reaching  the  shore 
with  a  few  strokes.  The  bank  was  steep,  but 
catching  at  an  overhanging  root  he  held  on  firmly 
and  looked  over  his  shoulder  to  see  what  had  be 
come  of  his  enemv.  He  saw  the  man  rise  to  the 


AT  THE   STONE  BRIDGE  341 

surface,  and  strike  out  for  the  shore.  Then  sud 
denly  he  went  under.  Coming  to  the  surface,  he 
stretched  out  his  arms  appealingly  with  a  cry,  and 
sank  again. 

The  water  had  cooled  Clifford  Clayborne's 
blood.  He  had  made  his  fight  and  won.  With 
out  a  thought  he  plunged  back  under  the  flood  and 
caught  at  the  drowning  man.  The  latter,  think 
ing  his  enemy  had  come  to  complete  his  work, 
struggled  feebly.  Clifford  swam  with  him  towards 
the  shore.  The  burden  was  heavy  and  the  current 
swift.  For  some  moments  it  looked  as  if  both  men 
would  be  drowned.  Clifford,  with  his  hand  once 
firmly  fastened  to  his  enemy's  collar,  would  not  let 
go  his  hold.  Nearly  spent,  he  reached  the  shore, 
and  summoning  all  his  remaining  strength  clam 
bered  up,  dragging  the  Union  cavalry  man  after 
him.  "  You  are  too  good  a  fighter  to  drown  like 
a  blind  pup,"  exclaimed  Clifford  as  soon  as  he 
could  draw  breath,  and  he  felt  for  his  flask. 
The  other  lay  limp  and  helpless  on  the  grass. 
Clifford  lifted  the  man's  head  upon  his  knee; 
bending  close  over  him  he  forced  the  whiskey  flask 
between  the  cold  lips,  and  saw  it  was  his  brother 
Gordon.  There  are  some  emotions  too  deep  for 
words.  Clifford  made  no  sound.  He  quietly 
forced  the  liquor  down  Gordon's  throat,  then 
waited  painfully.  The  seconds  passed.  Gordon 
stirred,  opened  his  eyes.  Without  speaking  Clif 
ford  gave  his  brother  a  few  more  drops  of  whiskey. 
Gordon  now  sat  up  and  looked  wildly  around. 


342  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  Do  you  know  who  I  am,  Gordon  ?  "  said  Clif 
ford,  his  voice  trembling. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  other  simply,  "  you  are  my 
brother  Clifford." 

"  God  knows  I  did  not  mean  it,  old  fellow.  God 
knows  we  were  both  in  ignorance,  but,  old  man, 
you  '11  forgive  me." 

"  I  will,  Clifford :  help  me  up.  I  'm  stiff  and 
cold." 

Clifford  lifted  his  brother  to  his  feet.  Gordon 
steadied  himself  on  Clifford's  shoulder,  looked 
about  him,  and  regaining  possession  of  all  his  fac 
ulties  said  calmly,  "  It  was  a  close  call,  Clifford." 

Clifford  Clayborne  caught  his  brother  in  his 
arms,  while  he  sobbed  out,  "  Gordon,  old  man,  I 
never  thought  to  hug  a  damned  Yankee  soldier, 
but  damn  you,  Gordon,  I  'm  glad  I  did  not  kill 

you." 

The  battle  at  the  bridge  was  over.  The  Clay- 
borne  troopers  had  been  forced  to  yield  to  supe 
rior  numbers.  They  had  been  driven  back,  fighting 
valiantly.  Nothing  remained  but  the  dead  and 
wounded.  Clifford's  horse,  trained  to  answer  the 
call  of  his  master,  was  quietly  cropping  the  grass 
near  at  hand.  Gordon's  mount  had  disappeared, 
but  there  were  several  riderless  steeds  straying  in 
the  vicinity. 

"  Can  you  ride,  Gordon  ?  "  asked  Clifford  ? 

"  I  reckon  I  'm  able  to  go  a  little  distance,  Clif 
ford." 

"  Then  you  shall  come  with  me." 


AT  THE  STONE  BRIDGE  343 

"  As  a  prisoner  of  war?  "  inquired  Gordon. 

"  No,"  was  the  reply.  "  You  were  as  good  as 
dead  when  I  fished  you  up  from  the  river.  You 
can  go  wherever  you  will." 

"  I  reckon  I  'm  laid  up  for  repairs  for  a  day  or 
so,  Clifford." 

Clifford  looked  anxiously  into  his  brother's  face. 
"  Are  you  much  hurt  ?  Tell  me,  old  fellow, 
you  '11  pull  through  all  right." 

"  I  will  be  all  right  shortly,  Clifford.  It 's  only 
a  little  blood  spilt  and  a  lot  of  water  swallowed." 

Again  Clifford  hesitated.  "  Gordon,"  he  said 
earnestly,  "our  side  is  sore  pressed.  We're  in 
desperate  straits  and  every  man  is  needed.  I  've 
got  to  be  in  at  the  death." 

"  All  right,  old  man,  go  —  but  I  shall  find  you 
again,  shall  I  not,  Clifford  ?  " 

"  I  shall  be  with  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia, 
under  Lee.  Wherever  that  is  you  will  find  me, 
if  I  'm  above  ground." 

"  God  grant  that  you  will  be  kept  above  ground 
for  many  years,"  said  Gordon  earnestly,  while  he 
pressed  his  brother's  hand  with  affection. 

"  Gordon,"  said  Clifford  warmly,  "  you  need 
rest  and  shelter  at  least  until  morning.  Will  you 
do  as  I  tell  you  ?  " 

« I  will,  Clifford." 

"A  mile  beyond  the  bridge  are  some  cross 
roads." 

Gordon  nodded.     "  I  recollect." 

"  A  few  hundred   yards   back   from  the   road 


344  THE  CLAYBORNES 

stands  an  old  house.  You  can  find  shelter  there. 
If  it  should  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Federals  you 
will  be  safe,  and  if  it  is  occupied,  our  people  "  — 

"  I  shall  be  taken  prisoner,"  interrupted  Gor 
don  with  a  laugh. 

"  No.  You  've  taken  me  prisoner,  and  I  Ve 
captured  you,  Gordon,  so  we'll  exchange.  Can 
you  find  the  house  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  boy.  Good-by  —  until  we  meet 
again ; "  and  the  two  men,  riding  in  opposite 
directions,  disappeared  into  the  night. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE  TENANTS   OF   THE   CROSS-ROADS 

KILBY  had  great  admiration  for  Regina  Bowie ; 
he,  had  also  a  wholesome  respect  for  Clifford 
Clayborne;  besides  this  he  had  rather  a  kind 
heart.  He  obeyed  Regina,  and  held  Marjorie  a 
prisoner ;  he  remembered  Major  Clayborne's  part 
ing  injunction,  and  treated  her  with  respect;  he 
followed  the  natural  promptings  of  his  nature,  and 
tried  to  make  the  imprisonment  as  easy  for  the 
captive  as  possible. 

On  the  lower  floor  of  the  house,  on  the  left  of 
the  hallway,  were  three  rooms.  The  first  contained 
a  few  chairs  and  a  table  ;  otherwise  the  room  was 
bare.  The  second  room  was  still  more  sparsely 
furnished.  A  pile  of  army  blankets  rolled  up  in 
the  corner  and  two  or  three  saddles  on  the  floor 
indicated  that  here  the  scouts  slept  stretched  upon 
the  floor,  their  feet  in  their  boots  and  their  heads 
on  their  saddles.  Beyond  this  was  a  large  chamber 
used  as  a  storeroom  and  kitchen.  The  room  was 
full  of  food  supplies  and  munitions  of  war,  from 
knives  and  rifles  to  bits  and  bridles  and  other 
articles  of  horses'  gear.  Kilby  had  given  the 
captive  the  liberty  of  these  three  rooms,  and  then 


346  THE  CLAYBORNES 

he  and  his  debauched  companion,  Galloway,  had 
withdrawn  to  another  part  of  the  house.  The 
"  drunkard  "  had  slept  off  his  debauch  and  come 
out  of  it  blear-eyed  and  bad-tempered.  At  Kilby's 
order  he  had  brought  in  some  water  from  the  well. 
He  obeyed  the  order  surlily,  then  he  walked  into 
the  room  where  Marjorie  was  seated  spiritless 
before  the  dying  embers  of  the  fire.  He  stood 
before  her.  Although  sober  at  the  present  mo 
ment,  he  was  more  unpleasant  to  the  eye  in  the 
glare  of  day  than  he  was  when  drunk  by  candle 
light.  His  red  frouzy  hair  and  beard,  his  blood 
shot  eye,  and  his  purple  face  made  him  look  like 
a  hideous  red  monster.  He  thrust  his  huge  face 
down  to  hers  ;  she  drew  back  with  a  shudder. 

Kilby  entered.  "  Galloway,"  he  said  sharply, 
"  have  I  got  to  fight  you  again  ?  Remember  my 
orders  are  to  be  obeyed.  Come  with  me  now." 
The  Irishman  growled  an  inaudible  reply.  The 
two  men  went  out  together,  and  Marjorie  Ware 
was  alone.  She  had  not  been  left  alone  for  many 
minutes  when  she  roused  herself  with  the  spirit  of 
determination  which  was  her  father's  and  his  an 
cestors  before  him.  She  examined  carefully  every 
possible  avenue  of  escape.  The  windows  had  all 
been  closed  by  heavy  shutters  securely  nailed. 
The  outside  door  leading  from  the  kitchen  was 
locked.  The  prospect  was  dispiriting.  She  real 
ized  the  importance  of  retaining  her  self-command 
and  keeping  up  her  courage,  but  the  situation  was 
almost  unbearable.  At  times  she  felt  as  if  she 


THE  TENANTS  OF  THE  CROSS-ROADS    347 

must  give  vent  to  her  feelings  and  cry  out ;  but 
the  fear  that  such  an  outburst  would  bring  in 
the  red  monster  Galloway  always  deterred  her. 
Thus  the  hours  dragged  by,  in  solitude  and  in 
creasing  anxiety.  Finally,  after  an  interminable 
time,  she  could  not  tell  whether  twenty-four  or 
twice  that  number  of  hours  had  passed,  she  heard 
the  tramp  of  marching  feet.  For  more  than  an 
hour  the  sound  lasted.  She  could  not  tell  whether 
it  came  from  friend  or  foe,  but  somehow  it  gave 
her  courage. 

In  the  silence  that  followed  she  became  possessed 
of  the  feeling  that  she  was  entirely  alone  in  the 
house ;  there  was  that  intense  stillness  which  is 
almost  audible.  She  could  hear  a  cricket  chirping 
in  another  room,  she  could  hear  boards  crack  in 
a  remote  corner  of  the  building;  but  there  was 
no  sound  of  footsteps,  no  sound  of  human  voices. 
She  resolved  to  find  out  if  possible  whether  the 
two  men  had  gone  away.  Going  into  the  kitchen, 
she  examined  the  outside  door.  It  was  of  pine,  but 
of  double  thickness  and  braced  with  iron.  There 
were  a  number  of  guns  in  a  corner ;  one  of  these 
she  took,  and  using  the  butt  as  a  sledge,  rained 
blows  upon  the  panel  of  the  door.  The  noise  re 
verberated  through  the  house.  She  made  a  num 
ber  of  large  dents  in  the  wood,  but  the  stock  of 
the  gun  broke,  and  she  could  not  make  any  serious 
impression  on  the  door.  The  house  was  as  silent 
as  ever. 

Marjorie  now  felt  sure  that   her  captors  had 


348  THE  CLAYBORNES 

left  her  for  the  time  being  to  her  own  devices. 
Although  there  was  a  sense  of  utter  loneliness  in 
her  situation,  the  thought  that  the  blear-eyed  Gal 
loway  was  not  under  the  same  roof  gave  her  a  feel 
ing  of  relief.  She  knew  that  she  must  not  give 
way  to  despair.  She  thought  of  her  father,  she 
thought  of  the  Union  troops  who  were  doubtless  at 
that  very  moment  closing  in  upon  the  enemy,  and 
she  felt  sure  that  there  was  a  power  which  would 
carry  her  through  this  present  ordeal  and  bring 
her  safely  back  to  her  own  friends  and  kindred. 
Kilby  and  Galloway,  from  a  safe  retreat  among 
the  trees,  had  observed  the  passing  troops.  They 
were  Yankee  soldiers.  When  the  last  blue  coat 
had  filed  by,  the  two  men,  going  farther  back  to 
the  spot  in  the  woods  where  their  horses  were  con 
cealed,  had  ridden  away,  leaving  the  house  behind 
the  trees  entirely  unwatched. 

Marjorie  Ware  did  not  try  to  sleep,  but  walked 
back  and  forth  from  room  to  room  like  a  caged 
animal,  trying  to  hit  upon  some  plan  of  escape. 
She  had  eaten  nothing  during  aR  this  time,  and 
though  fear  and  excitement  had  driven  away  all 
appetite  she  made  up  her  mind  to  take  some  food 
to  keep  up  her  strength.  There  were  corn  meal, 
water,  and  materials  for  a  fire  right  at  hand.  She 
made  some  cakes,  which  to  her  surprise  tasted 
good.  She  felt  her  strength  revive.  In  order  to 
occupy  herself,  more  than  from  any  other  reason, 
she  began  to  search  among  the  boxes  and  barrels. 
Among  these  she  discovered  a  small  keg  of  gun- 


THE  TENANTS  OF  THE  CROSS-ROADS    349 

powder.  Instantly  a  plan  of  action  suggested 
itself.  She  knocked  in  the  head  of  the  keg, 
and  took  out  a  supply  of  the  explosive.  She  did 
not  know  how  much  would  be  required,  so  she 
guessed  at  it.  Then  she  selected  from  among  the 
few  kitchen  utensils  an  iron  kettle.  She  poured 
the  gunpowder  into  the  receptacle,  and  placed  it 
against  the  door.  With  great  care  she  manufac 
tured  a  thin  fuse  out  of  paper  and  a  little  gun 
powder.  She  had  no  idea  how  long  the  fuse  would 
burn ;  it  was  all  a  matter  of  guesswork.  This 
fuse  she  ran  down  the  nozzle  of  the  pot  and  out 
on  to  the  floor. 

When  all  was  prepared  she  contemplated  the 
bomb,  which  she  had  thus  improvised,  with  great 
curiosity  and  some  alarm.  She  wondered  what  the 
result  would  be  if  she  should  touch  off  the  fuse 
and  retire  precipitately  into  the  farthest  room. 
Would  the  door  be  blown  out  ?  or  would  the  entire 
house  be  wrecked?  This  was  a  problem  of  dyna 
mics  which  could  only  be  solved  by  experiment. 
It  was  a  desperate  expedient,  but  her  situation  was 
desperate.  To  her  anything  seemed  preferable 
than  to  remain  longer  a  prisoner,  with  the  thought 
of  the  return  of  the  red  monster.  Right  at  hand 
was  the  fire.  One  touch  of  a  burning  brand  to 
the  fuse,  and  her  problem  would  be  solved ;  and 
yet  she  hesitated.  She  took  a  piece  of  pine  wood 
in  her  hand  and  ignited  one  end  of  it,  stood  in  the 
middle  of  the  room  with  the  shell  at  her  feet,  and 
still  she  hesitated. 


350  THE  CLAYBORNES 

The  latch  of  the  door  moved.  Some  one  had 
his  hand  upon  it  on  the  outside.  Her  heart  stood 
still  with  fear.  Could  it  be  Kilby  with  his  com 
panion,  the  red  monster?  Rather  than  have  him 
in  the  room  with  her  again,  rather  than  see  his 
face  again  close  to  hers,  she  would  put  the  fire  to 
the  powder,  though  she  and  all  of  them  might  be 
killed.  What  if  she  should  do  it  now  while  they 
were  unsuspectingly  opening  the  door  ?  She  could 
not  bring  herself  to  do  it  —  yet ;  but  waited, 
breathless,  her  heart  beating  wildly,  her  eyes  burn 
ing  like  the  fire  in  her  hand.  She  could  not  find 
voice  to  cry  out,  but  stood  in  silence,  waiting.  The 
person  outside  made  an  ineffectual  effort  to  push 
open  the  door,  then  turned  away,  and  Marjorie 
heard  his  tread  going  along  the  side  of  the  house 
to  the  front,  where  he  began  fumbling  at  the  shut 
ters.  A  few  heavy  blows  rained  upon  them,  a 
shutter  was  thrown  to  the  ground,  the  window  flew 
open,  and  the  man  sprang  quickly  into  the  front 
room. 

Then  Marjorie  found  her  voice  and  cried  aloud: 
"  Stop  where  you  are,  for  if  you  enter  this  room  it 
will  be  to  your  death ! "  The  footsteps  did  not 
halt,  but  came  hastily  nearer.  "  Stop,  I  command 
you,  if  you  wish  to  live ! "  she  cried  hysterically, 
as  a  large  figure  came  to  the  doorway. 

The  stranger  stood  gazing  at  her  in  amazement. 
He  was  not  the  red  monster  nor  Jake  Kilby. 

She  threw  the  burning  wood  from  her  as  he  pro 
nounced  her  name,  "  Marjorie  Ware,"  and  came 


THE  TENANTS  OP  THE  CROSS-ROADS    351 

quickly  to  her ;  and  then  she  was  clinging  to  his 
arm. 

She  could  have  wept  for  joy  at  the  sight  of  him. 
The  dangers  through  which  she  had  passed,  the 
fears  which  had  assailed  her,  had  left  her  weaker 
than  she  knew.  "  Mr.  Clayborne,"  she  cried,  "  what 
good  angel  directed  you  here?  Oh,  I  have  been 
so  terribly  frightened ;  I  have  endured  so  much ! 
Take  me  away  with  you  ;  take  me  away !  "  There 
was  a  sob  in  her  voice  as  she  spoke,  and  she  clung 
closer  to  him,  not  noticing  that  his  shirt  was  stiff 
with  blood.  He  winced  a  little  with  the  pain,  but 
said  in  a  soft,  reassuring  voice,  "  Don't  be  afraid, 
little  girl,  I  '11  take  you  away.  You  're  quite  safe 
now." 

"  You  're  wounded,  Mr.  Clayborne  !  "  she  cried 
suddenly,  in  alarm.  "  Oh,  you  're  wounded  and 
in  pain  !  " 

"  Wounded,  yes,  very  slightly,  but  not  in  pain 
—  now,"  he  replied. 

"  Come  quickly,  and  let  me  dress  your  hurt," 
she  said  in  a  tone  of  anxiety,  quite  forgetting  all 
her  fears. 

"It  is  merely  a  slight  cut ;  it  amounts  to  no 
thing.  Tell  me  "  —  he  began. 

"  Don't  question  me  now,"  she  said,  between 
tears  and  laughter ;  "  I  am  the  nurse,  and  must 
wash  and  dress  your  wound.  Oh,  who  gave  it  to 
you  ?  Some  villain  of  a  rebel  of  course." 

"  Oh,  it  is  not  of  great  consequence  ;  it  is  really 
much  slighter  than  it  appears,"  he  repeated,  trying 


352  THE  CLAYBORNES 

to  soothe  her.  "  Tell  me  about  yourself,  and  ex 
plain  why  I  find  you  here." 

"  I  will  tell  you,  but  not  now.  Oh,  I  have  had 
such  a  terrible  experience !  I  have  seen  so  much ! 
I  know  so  much  more  about  some  things  than  I  did 
a  few  days  ago  !  "  She  looked  into  his  face.  "  Are 
you  suffering  very  much,  poor  Mr.  Clayborne  ?  " 
she  asked  with  deep  sympathy.  "  Oh,  I  must  help 
you.  I  am  a  nurse,  and  can  do  it  so  easily." 

"  I  would  gladly  suffer  ten  times  as  much  for  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  you  and  of  feeling  your  gentle 
touch,"  he  replied,  yielding  to  her  entreaties,  and 
sitting  down  while  her  quick  fingers  put  aside  his 
coat  to  gently  cut  away  the  shirt  and  put  cool 
water  on  the  wound. 

"  Oh,  don't  talk  like  that,  Mr.  Clayborne.  Don't 
pay  me  compliments  now.  I  can  do  so  little." 

When  she  had  finished  dressing  his  wound,  and 
had  brought  him  some  food,  which  he  ate  heartily, 
she  came  and  stood  by  his  side,  saying  wistfully, 
"  Do  you  think  you  will  be  able  to  go  a  little  dis 
tance  now,  Mr.  Clayborne?  Before  I  tell  you 
anything  more,  before  anything  else,  we  must  get 
away  from  here." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  answered ;  "  but  is  it  necessary  ? 
I  must  confess  I  am  pretty  well  tired  out.  I  came 
to  this  place  for  shelter.  There  is  less  danger  here 
than  elsewhere,  little  comrade." 

He  spoke  to  her  in  the  same  soft  tone  he  had 
always  used,  just  as  if  nothing  had  ever  come 
between  them. 


THE  TENANTS  OF  THE  CROSS-ROADS    353 

Then  she  related  hurriedly  what  had  hap 
pened  to  her  in  that  house.  When  he  tried  to 
interrupt  her  with  exclamations  of  surprise  or  with 
questions,  she  bade  him  listen  until  the  end.  He 
sat  with  flashing  eyes  and  clinched  hands.  Many 
things  she  had  to  omit  for  lack  of  time,  but  when 
she  ended  he  had  heard  enough  to  set  his  blood  on 
fire. 

"  To  think  of  it !  "  he  cried,  rising  to  his  feet,  and 
pacing  the  floor  in  anger.  "  To  treat  a  woman  so ; 
to  treat  you  so  !  And  Clifford  interfered  in  your 
behalf,  did  he  ?  Ah,  Clifford  would  never  do  other 
wise.  And  Kegina  Bowie !  It  was  Eegina  Bowie 
who  kept  you  here  ?  "  There  was  a  bitterness  in 
the  accent  with  which  he  spoke  the  name,  there 
was  a  wrathful  flash  in  his  eyes  which  made  Mar- 
jorie  almost  afraid  of  him.  She  had  flushed  at  the 
sound  of  the  woman's  name,  but  remained  silent, 
looking  at  Gordon  steadily,  while  everything  she 
had  seen  and  heard  in  that  room  a  few  hours 
before  flashed  once  more  through  her  brain. 

"And  Francis  Ware,  your  brother  —  you  say 
he  was  here  with  her,"  Gordon  went  on.  "  Mar- 
jorie,  I  tried  to  keep  from  you  the  knowledge  of 
his  desertion.  I  thought  you  could  not  bear  to 
know  it." 

"  Oh,  it  was  so  generous  of  you,"  she  cried,  "  but 
useless,  quite  useless." 

Gordon  sat  down  in  the  chair.  "  Little  girl," 
he  said  seriously,  "  it 's  dark,  you  are  very  much 
fatigued,  and  so  am  I.  We  can't  go  far  from  here 


354  THE  CLAYBORNES 

this  night.  There 's  no  more  danger  for  you  now. 
Are  you  afraid  to  stay  here  until  morning  ?  " 

"  Not  with  you.  I  have  no  fear  now  that  you 
are  here,"  she  said. 

Gordon  brought  in  some  blankets,  and  made  a 
couch  for  Marjorie  on  the  floor  of  the  inner  cham 
ber.  Then  with  some  nails  which  he  found  in  the 
kitchen  he  repaired  the  broken  shutter,  like  a  care 
ful  general  making  the  place  secure.  "  You  can 
sleep  in  perfect  safety  to-night,  Marjorie,  and  to 
morrow  at  daylight  we  will  go  away."  With 
drawing  to  the  farther  room,  he  wrapped  himself 
in  a  blanket,  and  stretching  out  before  the  thresh 
old  of  the  room  where  Marjorie  lay,  he  fell  almost 
immediately  asleep. 

For  the  first  time  in  two  nights  Marjorie  slept. 
She  was  thoroughly  exhausted  and  her  slumber 
was  deep  and  restful.  Once  or  twice  she  partially 
awoke,  and  with  a  feeling  of  perfect  security 
turned  on  her  bed  of  blankets  and  fell  into  a 
dreamless  sleep.  Gordon,  on  his  part,  was  spent 
with  fatigue ;  he  hardly  stirred  in  the  spot  where 
he  had  thrown  himself.  So  during  all  the  night 
youth  slept  serenely  in  the  old  house ;  and  thus 
the  morning  found  them  each  rolled  in  the  gray 
blankets,  unmindful  of  discomfort,  unconscious  of 
peril.  Gordon  was  the  first  to  awaken.  He  had 
been  living  over  in  his  dreams  the  fight  upon  the 
bridge.  He  heard  again  the  thunder  of  horses' 
hoofs,  the  shouts  of  the  enemy,  as  they  rode  at 
him  in  the  attack.  He  thought  that  he  lifted  his 


THE  TENANTS  OF  THE  CROSS-ROADS    355 

sword  in  defense.  He  sprang  forward  and  found 
himself  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  rubbing  his 
eyes  became  aware  of  a  terrific  hammering  on  the 
outer  door.  He  was  wide  awake  upon  the  instant, 
and  going  into  the  kitchen  demanded  in  a  loud 
tone  to  know  who  was  there. 

"  Open  the  door  !  "  replied  a  gruff  voice. 

"Tell  me  what  you  want,  first,"  he  answered 
quickly. 

"  To  get  into  the  house,  you  fool,"  was  the  re 
joinder. 

Marjorie,  who  had  been  awakened  by  the  dis 
turbance,  came  and  stood  at  his  elbow.  "  Do  not 
open,"  she  whispered.  Gordon  turned  and  noticed 
that  she  was  trembling.  He  gave  her  a  reassuring 
look. 

"  Come  with  me,"  he  whispered,  leading  her 
away. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  she  asked  in  the 
same  manner,  following  him. 

"  I  am  going  upstairs,  where  I  can  get  a  good 
look  at  them." 

"  We  are  locked  in  here  in  the  lower  part  of  the 
house,"  she  answered.  Gordon  tried  the  door  lead 
ing  into  the  hallway.  Then  drawing  his  revolver 
he  demolished  the  lock  with  a  shot,  and  led  the 
way  to  the  floor  above.  Throwing  open  a  window, 
he  looked  directly  down  upon  four  men  who  were 
stamping  impatiently  in  the  rear  of  the  house. 
They  were  all  ugly  looking  specimens,  with  scowling 
faces.  One  of  them  had  a  red  scar  across  his  face 


356  THE  CLAYBORNES 

from  eye  to  chin.  It  was  a  recent  cut,  freshly 
healed,  and  had  almost  severed  the  nose.  Mar- 
jorie  peered  down  upon  them  under  Gordon's 
elbow.  He  gently  pushed  her  back  from  the  win 
dow.  The  man  with  the  scarred  face  gazed  up  in 

surprise.  "  Where  in  h did  you  come  from  ?  " 

he  demanded  brutally. 

"  Never  mind  that.  State  your  business  or  get 
out,"  answered  Gordon  with  equal  brusqueness. 

"  Business  !  I  like  that,"  cried  the  other  fiercely. 
"  Ye  damned  Yank,  surrender ! "  and  he  drew  a 
pistol  with  a  flourish. 

Quick  as  lightning  Gordon  drew  back,  even  as 
the  report  of  the  pistol  rang  out. 

Marjorie  gave  a  cry  and  sprang  forward.  "  Are 
you  hit  ?  "  she  exclaimed  in  terror. 

"  No,  little  comrade,"  he  replied  with  a  reassur 
ing  smile,  while  his  hand  sought  the  butt  of  his 
revolver. 

He  had  noticed  that  none  of  the  men  wore  the 
Confederate  uniform.  They  all  bore  the  stamp  of 
free-booting  guerrillas,  with  which  the  country  at 
the  closing  of  the  war  was  overrun. 

"  Surrender,  dang  yer !  "  cried  the  men  in  con 
cert.  "  Surrender,"  echoed  the  first  spokesman, 
"  or  it  will  go  hard  with  yer ! " 

"  One  of  the  men  is  the  red  monster.  He  is 
the  short,  stout  creature,  with  one  eye  and  the 
bloated  face,"  whispered  Marjorie.  "  Do  not  trust 
any  of  them.  If  Kilby  were  among  them  it  might 
be  different,  but  I  am  terribly  afraid  of  them." 


THE  TENANTS  OF  THE  CROSS-ROADS    357 

"  Do  not  have  the  slightest  fear,  little  comrade," 
said  Gordon  with  a  coolness  which  could  not  help 
but  inspire  confidence.  Then  speaking  aloud  he 
said  emphatically,  "  I  am  a  prisoner  of  Major 
Clifford  Clayborne  of  the  Clayborne  Horse.  I 
am  on  parole  and  staying  here  under  his  orders. 
I  cannot  surrender  to  you." 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment ;  then  the  hoarse 
voice  of  the  red  Galloway  replied :  — 

"  It 's  lyin'  ye  are ;  and  as  for  the  young  woman, 
she  was  left  in  my  keepin'." 

"She  is  under  my  protection,"  answered  Gor 
don. 

"  None  of  that  now,"  croaked  the  hoarse  voice. 
u  She  has  been  in  my  keepin'  for  the  last  two  days ; 
so  open  the  dure,  now,  or  there  '11  be  foighting." 

"  You  red  dog,"  shouted  Gordon  fiercely,  "  I  '11 
brain  the  first  man  who  tries  to  enter  here  !  " 

"  Damn  yer,  we  '11  soon  settle  both  of  yer !  "  was 
the  savage  retort. 

"  I  '11  give  you  one  minute  to  go  on  about  your 
business,"  cried  Gordon. 

The  only  answer  was  a  fierce  pounding  below. 

Gordon  leaned  from  the  window  and  shot  quickly 
down  among  them.  The  men  ran  precipitately 
around  the  corner  of  the  house.  Gordon  had  not 
paused  to  take  aim,  but  one  of  them  carried  a  bul 
let  in  his  arm.  There  was  silence  for  a  moment. 
Then  the  wounded  man  cried  with  an  oath,  "  We  '11 
have  yer  heart's  blood  for  this  !  The  blood  of 
both  of  yez  shall  pay  for  this  !  " 


358  THE  CLAYBORNES 

Marjorie  looked  up  at  Gordon,  but  she  did  not 
speak. 

His  face  was  fierce  with  anger.  At  the  sight  of 
her  his  look  softened  to  one  of  tenderness.  "  Don't 
be  afraid,"  he  said  in  his  reassuring  tone. 

"  I  won't,"  she  said,  speaking  very  low. 

"  Marjorie,"  he  said,  taking  her  hand  in  his, 
"  they  '11  only  get  you  over  my  dead  body,  and  I 
don't  think  there  '11  be  much  of  them  left  to  harm 
you  then." 

For  a  moment  she  turned  away  her  head,  not 
trusting  herself  to  speak ;  then  in  a  low  voice  she 
answered :  — 

"  I  shan't  be  alive  then,  either ;  but  before  that 
time  comes,  if  it  is  to  come,  I  want  you  to  know 
how  much  I  respect  and  admire  you.  I  remember 
what  you  said  to  me  long  ago.  Gordon,  I  want 
to  tell  you  now  that  I  love  you." 

She  pressed  her  head  very  gently  against  the 
sleeve  of  his  coat.  With  his  left  hand,  the  other 
still  holding  the  loaded  revolver,  he  drew  her  to 
him  and  kissed  her  for  the  first  time.  "  Little 
comrade,"  he  whispered,  "  don't  you  worry  about 
anything.  There  are  years  of  happiness  ahead  for 
you  and  me." 

She  did  not  answer  in  words,  but  raised  her  eyes, 
and  in  them  he  saw  that  light  which  only  comes  to 
a  woman's  eyes  when  she  looks  at  the  man  she 
loves. 


LITTLE  COMRADE  .  .  .  DON'T  YOU  WORRY  ABOUT  ANYTHING' 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

FOUR    STURDY   KNAVES 

THE  four  men  had  withdrawn  to  the  shelter  of 
the  pine  woods.  The  four  had  been  the  shining 
lights  in  a  band  of  guerrillas.  With  Kilby  as  their 
captain,  they  had  for  years  been  leading  the  wild 
life  of  irregular  warfare.  Kilby  had  held  these 
turbulent  spirits  in  some  sort  of  subjection,  and 
through  the  force  of  a  strong  arm  and  a  ready 
hand  had  been  able  to  exact  a  certain  degree  of 
obedience.  Kilby  was  now  lying  stiff  and  cold  in 
a  ditch  with  a  bullet  hole  in  his  heart.  His  band 
had  been  blown  to  the  four  winds  by  Sheridan's 
cavalry,  and  when  a  handful  of  the  most  lawless 
spirits  gathered  together  again,  they  found  them 
selves  without  a  leader ;  and  with  the  end  of  the 
war  in  sight  their  occupation  was  no  more.  They 
chose  a  new  head,  and  formed  a  new  band  of  free 
lances,  whose  common  enemy  was  the  world  at 
large,  whose  booty  was  wherever  it  could  be  taken. 

The  new  leader  was  a  giant ;  he  with  the  scar. 
At  a  toss  of  the  hat  he  would  have  fought  against 
anybody  for  anything.  The  scar  across  his  face 
was  not  the  only  mark  of  conflict  which  his  body 
bore.  He  was  suspected  of  having  served  his  ap- 


360  THE  CLAYBORNES 

prenticeship  to  arms  under  a  black  flag  on  the 
open  sea.  In  evidence  of  this  he  showed  a  chest 
decorated  by  numerous  seams  and  gashes,  and 
spoke  somewhat  affectionately  of  the  bullets  en 
cased  in  his  huge  carcass.  He  was  chosen  leader 
because  of  this  distinction  ;  also  because  he  would 
not  follow. 

Two  of  his  fraternity  were  birds  from  a  Rich 
mond  jail.  They  had  been  drafted  into  the  Con 
federate  service,  which  they  had  promptly  deserted 
for  the  laxer  discipline  and  more  alluring  prospects 
of  guerrilla  warfare.  Now  led  by  the  buccaneer 
they  cheerfully  embraced  the  vocation  of  highway 
men,  which  was  no  new  trade  to  them,  for  they  had 
always  stood  ready  to  rob  anything  which  promised 
booty,  from  a  chicken  coop  to  a  church  altar. 

Kilby's  drunken  lieutenant  Galloway  was  the 
last  of  the  four.  Marjorie  feared  this  red-headed, 
red-bearded,  red-faced  monster  more  than  any  of 
the  others  ;  but  although  he  was  more  repulsive 
he  was  really  less  formidable,  for  drink  and  the 
devil  had  laid  strong  hands  upon  him  and  had 
weakened  much  of  his  strength.  Red  Galloway, 
knowing  that  the  house  near  the  cross-roads  held  a 
quantity  of  arms,  ammunition,  and  other  booty, 
had  suggested  to  his  confreres  that  it  would  be 
wise  economy  to  secure  immediate  possession  of 
these  supplies.  His  cronies  needed  little  prompt 
ing  on  this  score,  and  the  congenial  quartette  set 
out  at  once  for  the  rendezvous,  to  find  it  occupied 
by  one  other  besides  the  young  woman  whom  red 


FOUR  STURDY   KNAVES  361 

Galloway  had  told  them  was  locked  up  there  for 
safe-keeping. 

Now  that  this  unexpected  tenant  had  made  such 
a  spirited  resistance,  the  four  stood  ready  to  par 
ley  with  him,  —  to  make  terms  provided  they  could 
get  access  to  the  spoils  ;  to  make  promises  if  neces 
sary  to  gain  their  end,  and  to  break  these  pro 
mises  as  soon  as  they  got  what  they  wished. 

But  Gordon  Clayborne  knew  the  men  with 
whom  he  had  to  deal.  The  only  terms  they  could 
make  with  him  would  be  to  leave  him  in  peace. 
He  would  have  sooner  thought  of  cutting  off  both 
his  hands  than  of  surrendering  at  the  call  of  such 
rascals.  Like  all  the  Claybornes,  Gordon  had  been 
born  into  the  world  with  a  contempt  for  fear ;  but 
several  years  of  war  had  developed  a  certain  amount 
of  caution  in  his  brain.  He  had  Marjorie's  safety 
to  look  out  for  at  present ;  so  he  improved  the  lull 
in  hostilities  to  strengthen  his  own  position.  He 
knew  that  he  could  not  hold  the  lower  part  of 
the  house  against  the  united  attack  of  the  four 
desperadoes,  but  from  the  upper  story  he  could 
command  a  great  advantage.  There  Marjorie  and 
he  took  up  their  positions.  They  could  see  the 
four  marauders  flitting  among  the  trees  which  sur 
rounded  the  house.  The  miscreants  did  not  ven 
ture  to  attack  them  openly,  the  bullet  which  one 
of  them  had  received  in  the  arm  having  taught 
them  caution ;  but  an  occasional  pistol-shot  crash 
ing  into  the  room  through  a  window  showed  that 
they  had  no  idea  of  relinquishing  their  object. 


362  THE   CLAYBORNES 

With  Marjorie's  help,  Gordon  barricaded  the  win 
dows  with  materials  brought  up  from  the  kitchen, 
and  through  a  loophole  between  two  sacks  of  meal 
watched  with  comparative  safety  the  movements 
of  the  enemy. 

The  sun  rose  high  in  the  heavens,  and  there  was 
no  change  in  their  relative  positions.  Marjorie 
went  down  into  the  kitchen  and  cooked  some  corn- 
meal  and  bacon,  while  Gordon  never  relaxed  his 
vigilance,  feeling  sure  that  his  besiegers  were  not 
men  to  wait  in  patience  for  any  length  of  time. 

The  girl  soon  returned  with  some  food,  which 
they  shared  like  two  soldiers  of  fortune.  Gordon 
brought  up  all  the  chairs  and  the  heavy  table,  and 
piled  them  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  ;  this  furniture 
he  tied  firmly  together  with  a  stout  piece  of  rope 
which  was  found  among  the  supplies  below.  It 
would  have  to  be  a  fierce  and  determined  attack 
which  could  carry  their  barricade.  The  ammuni 
tion  and  guns  among  the  stores  were  not  forgotten. 
Marjorie  helped  to  load  all  the  guns,  and  place 
them  near  at  hand  ready  for  instant  use. 

The  day  passed ;  the  afternoon  began  to  wane, 
and  they  were  still  unmolested.  Gordon  became 
uneasy.  He  had  expected  and  hoped  that  the  out 
laws  would  attack  at  once  in  broad  daylight.  He 
did  not  credit  them  with  enough  self-restraint  to 
wait  until  night,  and  he  was  more  apprehensive 
as  to  the  result  of  an  assault  under  cover  of  dark 
ness.  He  could  catch  occasional  glimpses  of  one 
or  more  of  the  men  lurking  among  the  trees. 


FOUR  STURDY  KNAVES  363 

With  chagrin  he  had  seen  them  lead  away  his 
horse  which  had  been  picketed  in  the  woods.  He 
had  fired  upon  them  through  the  window,  but  all 
to  no  avail ;  he  could  not  draw  his  besiegers  to  an 
assault.  With  stubborn  and  sullen  patience  they 
hovered  in  the  shadow  of  the  trees  like  birds  of 
ill-omen,  waiting  for  the  darkness. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  one  reason  for  their  for 
bearance  was  the  wholesome  respect  for  Clay- 
borne  which  his  first  vigorous  reception  of  them 
had  engendered.  He  had  inflicted  a  more  serious 
wound  upon  one  of  his  enemies  than  he  himself 
knew.  This  was  the  red  monster,  Galloway,  whose 
arm  had  been  so  shattered  by  the  bullet  as  to  ren 
der  amputation  necessary.  This  operation  had  to 
be  performed  in  a  rough  way  by  one  of  his  mates, 
and  the  unhappy  creature  lay  groaning  upon  a  pile 
of  boughs,  where  without  proper  medical  assistance 
he  bade  fair  to  end  his  earthly  career  as  he  had 
lived,  in  passion  and  drink,  cursing  roundly  at  his 
fate,  and  crying  out  imprecations  against  the  cause 
of  his  present  misfortune.  With  their  number 
thus  reduced,  the  remaining  three,  ordinarily  as 
desperate  men  as  ever  embarked  in  an  unlawful 
calling,  curbed  their  impatience  from  sheer  neces 
sity,  waiting  restlessly  for  nightfall,  their  passions 
heated  and  their  rage  augmented  by  whiskey. 

Gordon  saw  the  shadows  lengthen  with  more 
anxiety  than  he  showed  to  Marjorie.  He  tried  to 
interest  her  and  divert  her  mind  from  any  thought 
of  danger.  Although  he  never  for  a  moment  re- 


364  THE  CLAYBORNES 

laxed  the  vigilance  of  his  lookout,  he  found  time 
to  tell  many  of  the  things  which  had  happened 
since  they  had  last  parted.  It  was  not  a  difficult 
matter  to  interest  Marjorie,  for  she  loved  him. 
For  months  she  had  struggled  to  repress  her  love, 
she  had  fought  against  it  with  all  her  might ;  but 
it  had  proved  too  strong  for  her,  and  now  that  all 
her  doubts  of  him  had  been  dispelled,  now  that 
she  had  been  brought  to  tell  him  of  her  love,  she 
trusted  him  implicitly.  To  hear  the  sound  of  his 
voice,  to  feel  his  presence  near,  created  an  intoxi 
cation  of  excitement  which  caused  her  to  forget 
past  terrors,  to  ignore  the  present  danger.  For  he 
was  there  to  defend  her,  with  him  by  her  side  she 
could  feel  no  fear. 

It  was  no  time  for  love-making  with  a  desperate 
enemy  in  ambush  near  at  hand.  It  was  no  time 
for  the  exchange  of  vows  of  eternal  affection  and 
the  making  of  plans  for  life-long  happiness,  when 
all  about  them  stalked  relentless  war,  and  human 
life  was  as  uncertain  as  the  shifting  sand.  The 
pair  spoke  no  word  of  love,  but  love  can  make 
itself  known  in  a  hundred  ways  without  the 
spoken  word.  Gordon  could  not  talk  to  her  upon 
any  subject  without  telling  her  by  the  accent  of  his 
voice  that  he  loved  her.  Marjorie  could  riot  look 
into  his  face  without  her  eyes  betraying  that  she 
adored  him. 

As  night  settled  down,  Gordon's  watchfulness 
increased.  He  walked  from  one  window  to  an 
other,  peering  cautiously  out  on  every  side,  in  his 


FOUR  STURDY  KNAVES  365 

endeavor  to  see  and  frustrate  the  first  attempt  at 
an  attack.  The  moon  had  risen  early,  and  as  her 
beams  sifted  through  the  swaying  pines,  throwing 
fantastic  shadows  on  the  house,  Gordon  thought 
that  he  could  discern  moving  figures  of  men. 
Once  or  twice  he  fired  a  shot  from  his  revolver, 
but  this  brought  forth  no  response.  He  had 
merely  fired  at  a  shadow  in  the  night.  Could  it 
be  possible,  he  argued,  that  the  ruffians  had  given 
up  the  siege  as  hopeless  and  gone  away,  leaving 
him  to  combat  shadows  ? 

As  if  in  answer  to  this  thought  there  came  a 
sudden  rush  of  feet  and  a  crash  against  one  of  the 
doors.  Gordon  fired  repeatedly,  but  without  effect. 
With  an  answering  yell  of  defiance  his  assailants 
broke  into  the  house.  What  Gordon  had  feared 
had  happened.  Under  cover  of  the  night  they  had 
forced  a  sudden  entrance. 

Marjorie  looked  up  into  Gordon's  face.  "  There 
is  but  one  stairway,"  he  whispered.  "  We  can 
hold  that  against  twice  their  number.  Can  you 
shoot,  Marjorie  ?  " 

In  reply  she  took  up  the  lightest  of  the  rifles 
and  knelt  beside  him  at  the  barricade.  Replaced 
a  revolver  in  her  hand.  "  You  can  handle  this 
with  greater  ease,"  he  said.  "  Now  take  up  your 
place  behind  me,  and  if  I  give  the  word  shoot 
under  my  arm.  Mind,  Marjorie,  shoot  low  ;  and 
only  when  I  tell  you." 

Heavy  heels  were  heard  in  the  room  below,  and 
a  voice  called  out,  "  Now  will  yer  surrender?" 


366  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  Come  up  and  take  us,"  was  the  terse  reply. 

"  Not  such  fools  as  that.  We  have  a  better 
way." 

"  Take  it  then,"  was  the  laconic  response. 

"  We  will  that."  There  was  a  few  minutes' 
hurried  consultation  below ;  then  spoke  the  leader. 
"  There  's  a  keg  of  powder  here.  We  '11  give  yer 
thirty  minutes  to  come  down,  else  ye  '11  go  up 
higher  still." 

"  Will  they  do  it  ?"  whispered  Marjorie,  laying 
a  hand  on  Gordon's  sleeve.  The  expression  on  his 
face  answered  her. 

"  I  am  not  afraid,  for  we  shall  be  together, 
Gordon,"  she  whispered. 

For  a  moment  his  arm  was  about  her  while  he 
spoke  low  in  her  ear. 

"  Well,  what  have  you  to  say  ?  "  was  the  impa 
tient  cry  from  below. 

"  If  you  do  us  the  slightest  injury  every  one  of 
you  shall  be  hanged." 

"  Yes,  if  we  're  caught,  but  we  have  no  fear  of 
that.  Say,  will  you  come  down  ?  " 

"No!" 

"  Then  up  yer  go  in  thirty  minutes,"  and  the 
parley  closed  with  an  oath. 

Gordon  Clay  borne  knew  that  he  had  to  deal 
with  desperate  men  who,  with  their  passions  once 
aroused,  would  stop  at  nothing.  He  could  hear 
the  tramp  of  their  feet  as  they  worked  away,  re 
moving  from  the  house  all  the  materials  which 
they  wished  to  save.  With  a  few  whispered  words 


FOUR  STURDY  KNAVES  367 

in  Marjorie's  ear,  he  left  her  to  guard  the  barrier 
for  a  moment,  with  the  injunction  to  call  out  to  him 
at  once  if  the  marauders  made  any  move  towards 
the  stairway.  Then  he  stole  silently  into  one  of 
the  back  rooms. 

If  Marjorie  and  he  could  only  get  down  to  the 
ground  in  the  rear  of  the  house  and,  undiscovered, 
reach  the  shelter  of  the  woods,  he  felt  that  in  the 
darkness  they  could  evade  pursuit.  Silently  he 
raised  the  window.  There  was  a  fresh  wind  blow 
ing  which  sent  the  clouds  scudding  across  the  sky 
and  made  the  branches  of  the  dark  pines  and  hem 
locks  murmur  as  if  in  conversation  among  them 
selves.  It  was  a  friendly  sound,  a  soothing  sound. 
In  the  rooms  below  the  rough,  blood-stained  men 
could  be  heard  carrying  out  the  barrels  and  boxes 
of  supplies.  This  they  did  noisily,  with  loud- 
tongued  argument  freely  spiced  with  oaths.  Out 
side  the  fragrant  woods  suggested  peace,  offering  a 
sanctuary  from  the  threatened  danger.  Clayborne 
carefully  measured  with  his  eye  the  distance  to  the 
ground.  It  was  about  fifteen  feet.  If  he  could 
only  devise  means  to  swing  Marjorie  to  the  ground, 
he  could  follow  her,  and  then  they  could  get  away 
together.  Gordon  remembered  the  rope  which  he 
had  brought  upstairs,  and  did  not  hesitate  a  mo 
ment  in  the  execution  of  his  plan.  There  was  not 
a  moment  to  waste  in  irresolution.  Stealthily  he 
returned  to  where  he  had  left  Marjorie.  She  was 
an  alert  and  watchful  little  sentinel. 

"  They  are  still  busy  over  their  looting,"   she 


368  THE  CLAYBORNES 

said.  "  Is  it  almost  time  for  us  to  say  good-by  ?  " 
She  spoke  with  a  touching  calmness  which  won  his 
lasting  admiration.  He  pressed  her  arm  softly 
while  he  told  her  of  his  project.  With  her  face 
close  to  his  in  the  darkness,  with  her  breath  on  his 
cheek,  he  felt  his  heart  leap  as  she  whispered.  "  I 
will  do  anything  you  say,  go  anywhere  you  direct. 
I  feel  safe  when  you  are  with  me." 

Gordon  quickly  unwound  the  rope  which  he  had 
used  in  building  the  barricade.  Testing  it,  he 
found,  to  his  delight,  that  it  was  strong  enough  to 
hold  twice  his  weight. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  leading  the  way. 

Marjorie  shivered  with  excitement  as  she  felt 
the  fresh  night  wind  blow  in  her  face. 

"  As  soon  as  your  feet  touch  the  ground,"  said 
Gordon,  "  make  for  that  large  clump  of  trees  over 
there  on  the  right.  Do  you  see  it  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  Our  enemies  are  all  busy  on  exactly  the  oppo 
site  side  of  the  house.  I  shall  follow  you  directly. 
The  chances  are  we  shall  not  be  seen  ;  but  what 
ever  happens,  do  not  stop  running.  Whatever 
happens,  do  not  wait  for  me." 

"  I  shall  wait  for  you,"  she  replied,  looking  at 
him,  her  eyes  shining  brightly. 

Marjorie  stood  on  the  window  sill,  the  knotted 
end  of  the  rope  held  between  her  hands. 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  you  can  let  me  down  ?  I 
am  afraid  I  shall  prove  too  heavy  for  you,"  she 
said  anxiously. 


FOUR  STURDY  KNAVES  369 

u  You  are  not  so  heavy  but  what  I  could  hold 
you  with  one  hand,  little  girl.  Keep  a  tight  hold 
until  you  feel  your  feet  touch  the  ground,"  he 
counseled,  "  then  let  go  and  run  for  the  shadow." 

"  And  you,"  she  replied,  "  will  you  surely  be 
able  to  get  down  in  safety  ?  " 

"  Yes,  of  course  I  shall." 

She  clung  to  his  shoulder  for  an  instant,  his  lips 
touched  hers.  "  Now  ready,"  he  whispered.  Her 
fingers  tightened  on  the  rope.  Instead  of  letting 
her  go,  Gordon  caught  her  suddenly  around  the 
waist  and  swung  her  back  into  the  middle  of  the 
room,  while  he  dropped  like  a  shot  to  the  floor, 
raising  his  head  to  the  level  of  the  sill. 

"  Are  you  hurt,  Gordon  ?  "  cried  Marjorie  with 
anxiety. 

"  Silence,"  motioned  Gordon.  Directly  under  the 
window  walked  the  man  whom  Marjorie  called  the 
red  monster.  The  fellow  had  been  left  to  guard 
the  outside  of  the  house,  while  the  other  three 
came  within.  The  stump  of  his  amputated  arm 
was  roughly  bandaged,  and  was  evidently  causing 
him  much  suffering,  for  he  was  whining  as  he 
walked.  He  was  weak  from  pain  and  loss  of  blood, 
and  had  taken  a  good  deal  of  whiskey  to  sustain 
himself.  In  his  right  hand  he  carried  a  large 
Colt's  revolver ;  and  although  he  was  patrolling 
about  the  house,  his  eye  was  at  the  moment  upon 
the  ground.  He  passed  exactly  underneath  the 
window,  reached  the  angle  of  the  house,  then 
turned  on  his  heel. 


370  THE  CLAYBORNES 

Gordon  quickly  made  a  slip-knot  in  the  cord 
and  rose  to  his  feet.  Galloway  passed  again  be 
neath  him  and  looked  up.  Down  over  his  neck 
fell  the  noose,  and  was  pulled  taut.  With  the 
instinct  of  self-preservation  the  man's  one  free 
hand  flew  to  his  throat  in  time  to  be  caught  within 
the  running  noose ;  but  the  snare  drawn  by  a  strong 
hand  closed  about  his  neck.  The  cry  that  rose  to 
his  lips  was  stifled.  Gordon  had  caught  his  fish, 
and  stood  for  a  moment  undecided  what  to  do. 
The  red  monster  pulled  desperately  at  the  line. 
Gordon  wound  his  end  firmly  about  his  hands,  and 
pulled  with  all  his  young  vigorous  strength.  The 
big  fish  heaved,  but  the  stout  cord  held.  There 
was  a  clatter  and  scramble,  and  up  Red  Galloway 
came  with  a  rush.  The  veins  were  swelling  on 
Gordon's  forehead  from  the  exertion,  but  he  had 
his  fish  well  in  hand.  Up  to  the  level  of  the 
window  came  the  red  monster,  his  eye  bulging  from 
its  socket,  his  purple  face  almost  black,  the  breath 
nearly  forced  out  of  his  body,  great  beads  of  sweat 
standing  on  his  blotched  forehead.  Marjorie  looked 
upon  the  scene  almost  petrified  with  horror.  Gor 
don  caught  the  man  by  the  collar  and  landed  him 
safely  in  upon  the  floor.  There  the  fish  lay  gasp 
ing  with  no  fight  left  in  him. 

"  He  's  beaten  out  for  some  time,"  said  Gordon. 
"  Now,  Marjorie,  to  the  window !  "  Quickly  seizing 
the  rope  he  swung  her  to  the  ground.  Dropping 
to  the  ground  by  her  side,  he  took  her  arm  and 
together  they  ran  to  the  cover  of  the  trees.  A 


FOUR  STURDY  KNAVES  371 

hundred  yards  they  sped,  then  paused  to  take 
breath.  "They'll  never  find  us  in  these  woods 
to-night,  little  comrade,"  said  Gordon  gayly. 

"Thank  heaven,  we  are  still  alive  !  ", exclaimed 
Marjorie.  "  Oh,  Gordon  !  Oh,  Gordon  !  what  if 
they  had  killed  you  !  " 

"  But  they  did  n't,  and  we  are  both  quite  safe. 
Look  and  see  if  you  cannot  make  out  where  their 
horses  are  picketed.  We  '11  take  two  of  them." 

"  Oh,  I  must  find  Dolly,"  cried  Marjorie,  as 
they  penetrated  still  farther  into  the  forest. 

"  Where  is  the  mare  ?  " 

"  I  left  her  in  an  old  barn  near  the  house." 

"  We  cannot  go  so  near,  and   she  must  have 
been  discovered  and  taken  away  long  ago,"  replied 
Gordon. 
,  "  Poor  Dolly,"  sighed  Marjorie  gently. 

As  she  spoke  there  was  a  roar  and  a  flash.  The 
mine  had  been  exploded,  and  the  house  burst  into 
flames. 

"Those  brutes  have  kept  their  word,"  cried 
Gordon,  "  and  they  must  have  blown  up  their  own 
red  monster  —  poor  devil !  " 

The  light  showed  him  the  horses  straining  at 
their  tethers.  They  were  not  fifty  yards  away. 

"  Quick,  Marjorie,  before  we  are  seen !  Once 
mounted,  we  can  leave  them  far  behind."  Before 
he  had  finished  speaking  the  girl  was  running  by 
his  side  toward  the  animals.  She  needed  no  as 
sistance  to  spring  to  the  saddle.  The  woods  for 
many  hundreds  of  yards  around  were  too  bright  to 


372  THE  CLAYBORNES 

permit  of  concealment ;  the  outlaws  saw  them  at 
this  instant,  and  with  a  yell  ran  towards  them. 

"  Quick,  Gordon,  for  the  love  of  heaven !  "  cried 
Marjorie,  her  heart  in  her  mouth.  Releasing 
three  of  the  frightened  beasts,  Gordon  stampeded 
them,  and  then  vaulting  into  the  saddle  of  his 
own  horse,  he  rode  off  with  Marjorie  by  his  side. 
Through  the  woods  they  rode,  the  yells  and  pis 
tol  shots  sounding  fainter  and  fainter  in  the  dis 
tance.  Then  at  last,  striking  out  on  the  highway, 
they  galloped  on  through  the  night.  The  moon 
sank  behind  the  wooded  hills,  and  only  the  stars 
remained  shining  kindly  down  upon  the  two. 
There  was  a  wild  excitement  in  the  ride  which 
set  Marjorie's  pulse  on  fire.  She  quickened  the 
pace.  Faster  they  flew,  the  wind  blowing  in  their 
faces,  the  blood  tingling  in  their  veins. 

"  Do  you  remember  our  rides  about  Memphis, 
Marjorie?"  asked  Gordon, —  "how  we  rode  to 
gether  three  years  ago  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  but  we  never  rode  like  this,  Gordon.  I 
never  expected  to  ride  by  your  side  again." 

"  But  I  thought  you  would,  Marjorie.  I  knew 
you  would.  Did  you  think  I  would  give  you  up  so 
easily  ?  " 

She  turned  her  head  toward  him.  He  could 
not  see  all  the  expression  of  love  on  her  face,  but 
he  could  see  her  eyes  shining  at  him  brighter  than 
they  had  ever  shone  before. 

He  could  not  speak.  There  was  no  need  of 
words  in  this  wild  ride.  To  him  the  long  years 


FOUR  STURDY  KNAVES  373 

that  had  passed  seemed  a  dream.  The  present 
only  seemed  real.  The  present  moment  alone  was 
life.  What  if  to-morrow  should  be  the  end  for 
him?  To-night  was  his.  To-night  he  lived  in 
deed.  She  loved  him,  and  he  was  riding  by  her 
side.  So  they  rode  in  silence.  In  his  ear  rang  the 
words,  "  Gordon,  I  love  you,"  set  to  music  by  the 
rhythmical  beating  of  the  horses'  hoofs,  reechoed 
by  the  wind,  —  the  same  refrain,  "  Gordon,  I  love 
you."  While  to  her,  the  swaying  treetops  seemed 
to  be  repeating  over  and  over,  "Little  comrade, 
there  are  years  of  happiness  ahead  for  you  and 
ine."  What  to  them  was  the  morrow !  The  pre 
sent  was  theirs.  On  and  on  they  rode  together 
through  the  night. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE   LAST   OF    THE    CLAYBORNE   HORSE 

TWENTY-SEVEN  thousand  veterans,  all  that  re 
mained  of  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia,  surren 
dered  at  Appomattox.  Silently  they  stacked  the 
arms  they  had  carried  through  the  war,  crowning 
them  with  the  colors  they  had  held  aloft  so  long. 
Thin  were  their  ranks,  tattered  their  battle-flags. 
They  had  reached  the  last  ditch. 

The  Clayborne  troop,  which  four  years  before 
had  ridden  gayly  to  the  front  a  thousand  strong, 
now  mustered  a  mere  handful.  The  gorgeous 
trappings  of  the  steeds,  the  brilliant  uniforms  of 
the  riders,  were  no  more.  The  men  sat  like  statues 
on  their  horses,  and  saw  the  banners  which  they 
loved  so  dearly  added  to  the  pile.  Reduced  by 
hunger,  ragged  and  unkempt,  beaten  out  at  last, 
these  cavaliers  had  saved  nothing  from  the  ruin 
beyond  the  lustre  of  their  valor  and  the  brightness 
of  their  swords. 

Colonel  Clayborne,  his  gray  hair  uncovered  to 
the  wind,  with  neither  coat  nor  vest,  wrapped  in 
a  torn  army  blanket  tied  around  his  neck,  kept 
his  place  at  their  head,  the  undying  spirit  of  his 
courage  burning  to  the  end.  "  Boys,"  he  said,  his 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  CLAYBORNE  HORSE    375 

voice  choking  with  emotion,  "  we  've  fought  our 
last  fight  together,  we've  ridden  our  last  ride. 
You  've  been  to  me  like  sons,  and  before  we  part 
here,  I  should  like  to  take  every  man  of  you  to  my 
heart."  Then  he  and  Clifford  rode  away,  —  the  old 
man  with  bowed  head,  his  frame  shaken  by  sobs 
he  made  no  effort  to  suppress ;  the  young  man 
with  a  face  from  which  the  smile  had  vanished. 

"  Where  shall  we  go  now,  boy  ? "  asked  the 
colonel,  lifting  his  eyes.  "  It  seems  as  if  there  was 
nothing  left  for  me  to  do.  I  should  have  laid  my 
old  bones  where  so  many  of  my  brave  men  have 
found  their  final  rest." 

"  Father,"  replied  Clifford,  "  why  not  go  to  our 
home?" 

"  Home,"  echoed  the  old  man  bitterly.  "  Who 
has  a  home  now  ?  Look  at  the  land,"  he  cried, 
with  a  sweeping  gesture  of  the  arm,  "  and  answer 
who  among  us  still  has  a  home  he  can  call  his  own. 
Can  we  expect  to  find  our  house  standing  and  our 
belongings  still  secure  ?  " 

"  Our  home  in  Richmond  is  unharmed." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  I  have  received  word  to  that  effect." 

"  From  whom  ?  " 

"  Gordon." 

"  Your  brother !     Have  you  seen  him  ?  " 

"  I  have  seen  him  and  embraced  him.  Will 
you  not  do  so  also  ?  " 

"  Embrace  an  enemy?  " 

"  Not  as  an  enemy,  but  as  your  son.     I  know 


376  THE  CLAYBORNES 

we  have  reason  to  feel  wrathful  towards  Gordon  ; 
but  I  've  told  you  how  we  met  and  fought  it  out 
at  the  stone  bridge.  I  licked  him  there,  and  damn 
it  all,  dad,  I  can't  feel  any  resentment  against 
him  now.  Don't  you  think  you  could  forgive 
him?  " 

"  I  am  going  home.  Tell  Gordon  if  he  wants 
to  see  his  old  father  before  he  dies  he  can  come 
there,"  said  the  colonel  wearily.  "  But,  by  Gad, 
sir,"  he  flared  out  with  his  old  spirit,  "  he  '11  have 
to  humble  himself,  Clifford,  if  he  wants  my  for 
giveness.  Good-by,  my  lad.  If  the  old  roof-tree 
is  still  standing,  you  will  know  where  to  find  me." 

Clifford  sat  and  watched  the  gray-head  ride 
slowly  away  with  dignity,  while  the  tattered  army 
blanket  flapped  in  the  wind.  "  Poor  old  dad," 
was  all  he  said,  but  there  was  a  catch  in  his  voice, 
and  driving  his  spurs  suddenly  into  his  horse's 
flanks,  he  made  his  animal  spring  forward  with 
a  start.  He  had  ridden  half  a  mile  when  he  saw  a 
well-known  figure  on  horseback  galloping  towards 
him.  It  was  Gordon  Clay  borne.  The  two  brothers 
drew  rein,  facing  each  other. 

Gordon  was  dressed  in  a  fatigue  uniform.  It 
was  new  and  neat,  with  freshly  polished  buttons. 
Clifford  was  as  ragged  as  the  roughest  rider  in 
his  troop,  and  many  a  button  had  parted  company 
with  his  coat.  Both  men  were  mounted  on  spirited 
horses,  and  in  spite  of  the  difference  in  their  clothes 
they  resembled  each  other  strongly  in  bearing  and 
manner. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  CLAYBORNE  HORSE    377 

"  Clifford,  I  was  coming  in  search  of  you,"  said 
the  elder. 

"  And  I  for  you,"  was  the  response ;  then  in 
the  next  breath :  "  Gad,  Gordon,  you  are  a  swell ! 
Do  you  always  dress  like  that,  or  did  you  put 
this  on  to  overawe  your  ragged  and  unfortunate 
brother?" 

"Nonsense,  Clifford,  this  is  no  full  dress,  and 
you  know  it.  You  know  also  that  if  I  have  a  coat 
there  is  another  for  you." 

"  I  '11  go  naked  before  I  '11  put  on  one  of  those 
damned  blue  ones,  Gordon ;  and  as  there  seems  to 
be  little  left  of  the  gray,  I  think  I  shall  leave  the 
country.  Perhaps  I  '11  go  to  Mexico  and  offer  my 
sword  to  Maximilian." 

"  You  '11  do  nothing  of  the  sort,  Clifford.  You  '11 
stay  in  this  country.  Did  n't  you  get  the  word  I 
sent  you  ?  The  house  in  Richmond  has  been  kept 
safe  from  fire  and  from  thieves.  My  friend  Ches 
terfield  has  just  come  from  there.  He  saw  to  it 
that  the  property  was  protected  by  Union  troops. 
And  Clifford,"  continued  his  brother,  "  as  you 
took  me  prisoner  at  the  bridge,  I  am  going  to 
take  you  prisoner  here.  I  want  you  to  come  with 
me." 

"  Lead  on,  then,  but  wherever  you  take  me  I 
shall  not  resent  being  introduced  to  a  square 
meal ;  for  to  tell  the  truth,  Gordon,  I  'm  more 
than  hungry." 

"  How  damned  thoughtless  of  me  !  "  exclaimed 
Gordon  reproachfully.  "  Twenty  thousand  rations 


378  THE  CLAYBORNES 

have  been  issued  to  feed  you  all.  Yon  shall  have 
something  to  eat  at  once,  my  boy." 

The  two  men  rode  off  side  by  side.  After  the 
first  cravings  of  Clifford's  appetite  had  been  ap 
peased,  Gordon  placed  his  hand  affectionately  on 
his  brother's  arm. 

"  Old  fellow,"  he  said,  "  you  did  me  a  far  greater 
service  than  you  knew  when  you  sent  me  to  the 
house  by  the  cross-roads." 

"  In  what  way  ?  "  asked  Clifford  quickly. 

"  Come  with  me  and  you  shall  see,"  replied  Gor 
don.  "  You  are  still  my  prisoner,  you  know." 

The  paroling  of  Lee's  vanquished  troops  was 
taking  place  as  fast  as  the  papers  could  be  made 
out.  The  Claybornes  passed  long  lines  of  South 
ern  soldiers  who  filed  slowly  by  to  stack  their  arms 
and  surrender  their  beloved  standards.  Many 
wore  grim  and  sullen  faces  ;  others,  with  stream 
ing  eyes,  reluctantly  laid  down  their  arms  and  ten 
derly  kissed  the  tattered  battle-flags,  emblems  to 
them  of  all  that  they  had  fought  for,  bled  for,  and 
lost.  As  Clifford  looked,  his  own  eyelashes  were 
wet.  From  his  war-stained  comrades  his  eye 
swept  over  the  great  array  of  Union  troops  who 
stood,  regiment  upon  regiment,  in  absolute  silence, 
looking  on  with  that  sympathy  which  brave  men 
feel  for  a  gallant  foe. 

"  We  are  beaten,  Gordon,"  exclaimed  Clifford, 
"  beaten  to  the  ground,  but  it  has  been  done  by 
force  of  numbers." 

"  It  was  written  in  the  nation's  destiny  that  it 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  CLAYBORNE  HORSE    379 

should  be  so,"  was  the  rejoinder.  "  Believe  me, 
brother,  the  day  will  come  when  you  will  say,  '  It 
was  better  that  it  ended  as  it  did.' ' 

"  Never  !  "  cried  Clifford  passionately.  "  We 
yield  to  fate,  we  accept  the  final  arbitrament  of 
arms,  but  never  shall  we  cease  to  justify  the  right 
eousness  of  our  cause." 

A  party  of  Union  officers  came  slowly  along  the 
road,  their  horses  walking  leisurely  while  the  riders 
talked  and  laughed  together  in  the  highest  spirits. 
They  felt  that  their  work  was  nearly  over,  the 
great  load  had  been  at  last  lifted  from  their 
shoulders.  They  were  the  chieftains  of  the  Federal 
army,  and  upon  this  bright  April  morning  they 
made  the  air  ring  with  their  talk  and  laughter,  like 
boys  let  out  of  school.  At  their  head  rode  a  man 
with  closely  trimmed  beard.  His  coat  was  unbut 
toned  to  the  balmy  air.  He*  wore  no  sword  nor 
any  insignia  of  rank  save  the  stars  on  his  shoulder- 
straps,  yet  Clifford  knew  him  at  once  to  be  the  com- 
mander-iii-chief  of  the  armies  of  the  United  States. 
No  signs  of  elation  were  on  the  general's  face, 
but  the  anxious  look,  which  had  been  there  so  con 
stantly  from  the  beginning  of  the  campaign  in  the 
Wilderness  until  the  fall  of  Richmond,  had  given 
place  to  one  of  peace.  With  unfaltering  determi 
nation  he  had  fought  through  a  long  and  bloody 
war.  He  had  won.  He  saw  himself  exalted  by  the 
people  as  no  citizen  of  the  Republic  had  ever  been 
exalted,  yet  he  bore  his  honors  with  the  serenity 
of  a  mind  truly  great.  With  his  head  full  of  the 


380  THE  CLAYBORNES 

details  of  the  surrender,  he  was  generously  plan 
ning  to  make  the  path  as  easy  for  the  vanquished 
as  could  be  done  with  justice.  As  he  rode  along 
he  exchanged  pleasantries  with  General  Sheridan, 
who  rode  by  his  side,  —  Little  Phil  Sheridan, 
whose  vivacious  spirits  were  overflowing,  who  pre 
ferred  fighting  to  food  or  rest,  and  who,  before  the 
last  gun  of  the  rebellion  had  been  fired,  was  hot  to 
carry  war  against  the  usurping  French  in  Mexico. 

"  They  are  good  soldiers,"  said  Clifford,  looking 
after  them  with  mingled  interest  and  respect. 
"  They  are  great  generals.  To  underrate  them  is 
to  belittle  our  own.  It  is  no  disgrace  to  yield  to 
such  men  ;  but  Gordon,  my  boy,  there  is  only  one 
Bayard.  They  have  conquered  him  at  last.  They 
have  scattered  his  armies  and  taken  him  a  pris 
oner,  but  in  our  hearts  he  will  always  be  the  peer 
less  knight  sans  penr  et  sans  reproche." 

"  There  are  many  such,  Clifford,"  said  Gordon, 
laying  his  hand  affectionately  on  his  brother's 
shoulder.  "  There  are  many  '  preux  chevaliers  ' 
upon  both  sides.  I  have  seen  them  at  the  head 
of  armies  and  in  the  ranks  as  well.  The  Rolands 
and  Bayards  live  always." 

"  That  is  true,"  acquiesced  Clifford,  "  but  never 
has  the  title  of  knighthood  been  more  truly  worn 
than  by  our  general.  Since  he  has  been  obliged 
by  fate  to  yield,  it  little  matters  what  becomes  of 
Clifford  Clayborne.  Take  my  sword  and  beat  it 
into  a  ploughshare,  load  me  with  chains,  Gordon. 
The  iron  cannot  enter  more  deeply  into  my  soul." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  CLAYBORNE  HORSE    381 

"  Life  is  still  young,  Clifford,  and  our  lives  have 
just  begun.  A  stern  decree  threw  us  upon  oppo 
site  sides  in  a  terrible  struggle,  but  blood  is  thicker 
than  water ;  we  are  now  reunited  and  are  friends 
—  true  friends,  are  we  not,  Clifford  ?  " 

"  Yes,  old  man,  we  are,"  exclaimed  Clifford, 
"  though  I  must  admit  for  a  time  I  hated  you  in 
my  heart.  But  when  I  pulled  you,  half  drowned, 
out  of  the  stream,  I  forgave  you,  Gordon." 

"  Stand  by  me,  Clifford,  for  the  rest  of  your 
life,  and  'fore  God  I  '11  stand  by  you.  There  will 
never  be  a  dollar  in  my  hand  which  I  won't  share 
with  you." 

"  Gordon  Clayborne,"  replied  the  younger  man, 
"  we  '11  stand  together  in  future,  so  help  me  God. 
I  never  want  to  cut  you  down  again." 

"  Major  Clayborne  !  "  exclaimed  a  bluff  voice. 
The  two  Claybornes  looked  in  the  direction  whence 
it  came,  and  Gordon  recognized  his  old  friend  Ches 
terfield  astride  a  small  but  vicious  army  mule,  his 
bearded  face  streaked  with  perspiration,  while  he 
resisted  the  animal's  efforts  to  throw  the  rider  over 
his  head.  The  stubborn  brute  was  coming  towards 
them  with  a  motion  suggestive  of  an  acrobat  turn 
ing  handsprings.  Although  the  gait  was  violent 
the  progress  was  small ;  but  Chesterfield,  his  long 
legs  clasped  tightly  to  the  animal's  sides,  his  note 
books  and  pencils  flying  in  all  directions,  was  not 
to  be  unseated  or  ruffled. 

"  Be  patient,  gentlemen,"  he  called  out  cheerily, 
"  and  I  shall  reach  you.  We  've  been  traveling 


382  THE  CLAYBORNES 

like  this  for  the  last  hundred  yards,  and  both  of 
us  are  getting  rather  used  to  it.  He  '11  bolt  in  a 
minute  or  I  '11  miss  my  guess,  and  then  you  will 
see  me  pass  you  like  a  streak  of  greased  light 
ning." 

Chesterfield  did  miss  his  guess.  The  mule  had 
a  mind  which  was  not  to  be  read  even  by  an  astute 
newspaper  correspondent.  Arriving  within  a  yard 
of  the  Claybornes,  the  animal  threw  himself  down 
in  the  dirt  with  a  shock,  leaving  Chesterfield  to 
stand  over  him  with  an  expression  of  reproach 
and  surprise  on  his  face.  The  mule,  with  a  grunt 
of  satisfaction,  proceeded  to  roll  comfortably  in 
the  dirt,  oblivious  to  the  two  excited  horses  snort 
ing  above  him.  Chesterfield,  however,  gathered 
himself  together  and  sat  down  upon  the  neck  of 
the  prostrate  mule.  The  brute  made  no  further 
attempt  to  move,  but  stretched  out  his  nose  in  the 
dust  with  a  sneeze,  and  closed  his  eyes  contentedly, 
while  a  gentle  twitching  of  his  tail  seemed  to  say, 
"  I  surrender,  but  what  are  you  going  to  do  about 
it?" 

Chesterfield  rose  to  his  feet  and  surveyed  the 
animal  with  a  critical  eye.  "  That 's  a  real  good 
mule,  only  he  's  been  driven  as  wheel  mule  to  an 
ambulance,  and  he  refuses  to  go  without  a  leader. 
If  you  will  trot  your  horse  down  the  road,  Clay- 
borne,  you  will  find  me  sailing  after  you  like  a 
bird  in  the  air." 

Both  the  Claybornes  laughed  heartily  at  the 
sight  of  the  big  newspaper  correspondent  solemnly 


waiting  for  his  beast  to  rise.  This  the  mule  did 
with  great  deliberation,  and  stood  quietly  twitching 
his  tail  and  shaking  his  big  ears  while  Chesterfield 
beat  the  dirt  out  of  him  with  his  riding- whip,  as  if 
he  were  a  dusty  carpet. 

"  Why  don't  you  sell  him  and  get  a  horse  ?  " 
laughingly  inquired  Gordon. 

"  Sell  him  ?  Why,  I  can't  give  him  away ;  and 
I  've  had  such  bad  luck  with  horses.  Two  have 
been  stolen,  one  died  on  my  hands,  three  have 
mysteriously  disappeared,  and  one  had  the  ill  grace 
to  get  shot  from  under  me.  I  took  this  beast 
because  no  one  will  steal  him.  He  can  live  on 
anything  or  nothing,  and  is  impervious  to  bullets. 
All  he  requires  is  another  animal  ahead  of  him  to 
encourage  him." 

"  Why  don't  you  hire  a  boy  to  ride  in  front  of 
you  as  a  sort  of  postilion  ?  "  suggested  Gordon. 

"  That 's  a  capital  idea,  Clayborne.  I  '11  put  it 
into  immediate  execution.  I  have  a  great  deal  of 
work  on  hand.  I  want  to  get  the  first  interview 
with  the  leading  generals  on  both  sides.  I  am  now 
on  my  way  to  find  General  Longstreet." 

"My  brother  here,  Major  Clifford  Clayborne, 
will  doubtless  be  able  to  tell  you  where  General 
Longstreet  is  to  be  found.  Clifford,  let  me  make 
you  acquainted  with  my  particular  friend,  Benja 
min  Chesterfield  of  St.  Louis.  Chesterfield  has 
been  through  the  war  from  start  to  finish,  and  his 
reports  have  made  him  famous." 

"  I  have  read  many  of  your  articles,  Mr.  Ches- 


384  THE  CLAYBORNES 

terfield,"  said  Clifford,  laughing.  "  We  got  the 
Northern  papers  quite  regularly  in  Richmond  dur 
ing  the  blockade,  but  I  never  expected  to  meet  the 
distinguished  author." 

"  The  Clayborne  Horse,  Major,  has  been  a 
household  word  with  us.  '  As  daring  a  devil  as  a 
Clayborne  raider '  is  a  familiar  expression,  and  I 
am  glad  that  my  first  meeting  is  of  a  friendly 
nature  and  not  with  you  upon  your  black  horse, 
riding  down  upon  me  with  drawn  sword." 

"  Oh,  we  never  would  harm  a  knight  of  the 
quill,  Mr.  Chesterfield,"  was  the  reply.  Then, 
with  a  shadow  across  his  handsome  face,  Clifford 
added,  "  The  Clayborne  Horse  will  never  ride 
again.  We  are  your  prisoners  now.  The  South 
has  been  beaten,  but  if  we  had  it  to  go  all  over 
again,  I  still  think  we  might  win." 

Chesterfield  shook  his  head  as  he  mounted  his 
mule.  "  You  should  not  have  challenged  the 
North,  Major,  without  counting  noses.  We  had 
more  men  and  more  money.  We  told  you  so  at 
the  start,  but  you  would  not  listen  to  us.  Yet  it 
was  a  hard  task  you  set  for  us,  and  let  us  thank 
God  it's  over,  and  all  be  friends."  Then  turning 
to  Gordon  in  his  quick  way,  he  said :  — 

"  I  want  you  to  capture  General  Ware  for  me. 
I  have  discovered  his  reluctance  to  talk  to  news 
paper  men,  and  I  am  very  anxious  to  interview 
him." 

"  I  will  endeavor  to  catch  the  general  for  you 
and  do  my  best  to  make  him  talk,  but  the  devil 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  CLAYBORNE  HORSE    385 

himself  could  not  make  him  open  his  lips  when  he 
chooses  to  be  silent." 

"  It  does  beat  the  devil,  then,  how  communica 
tive  the  general  is  with  you,  Clayborne,"  replied 
Chesterfield  quickly. 

"  That 's  to  make  up  for  long  silence  and  dis 
approval  on  his  part,"  was  the  laughing  rejoin 
der.  Clayborne  could  afford  to  laugh  now,  for 
General  Ware  and  he  had  at  last  met  under 
more  favorable  circumstances,  and  the  general 
had  not  only  accepted  the  inevitable,  but  after 
becoming  acquainted  with  his  future  son-in-law, 
had  declared  him  to  be  a  man  to  be  trusted. 
This  from  General  Ware  meant  an  indorsement 
for  life. 

A  commissary  wagon  laden  with  grain  for  the 
hungry  prisoners  came  rolling  merrily  along. 
With  a  wave  of  his  hand  and  a  cheery  "  Here 's 
my  opportunity  !  "  Chesterfield  fell  in  behind  it, 
leaving  the  two  brothers  to  gallop  off  in  the  oppo 
site  direction. 

They  rode  side  by  side,  as  they  had  ridden  many 
years  before,  with  the  same  gallant  bearing  that 
belonged  to  them  both. 

"  Dismount  here,"  said  Gordon  a  few  minutes 
later,  springing  from  his  horse  before  one  of  the 
few  houses  Appomattox  could  boast.  Opening  the 
gate,  he  made  his  way  through  a  garden  glorious 
with  spring  flowers.  Violets  and  daffodils  made 
the  air  soft  with  their  perfume.  Amid  this  scene 
of  peace  stood  Marjorie  Ware,  looking  as  fragrant 


386  THE  CLAYBORNES 

and  sweet  as  one  of  the  half -opened  roses  with  the 
morning  dew  fresh  upon  its  petals. 

Clifford  Clayborne  stopped  at  the  sight  of  her, 
and  raised  his  ragged  cap  from  his  head  with  a 
graceful  air  of  politeness. 

"  Clifford,"  said  Gordon,  "  this  lady  is  Miss 
Marjorie  Ware,  who  has  honored  me  by  consent 
ing  to  become  my  wife."  • 

A  look  of  amazement  came  to  Clifford's  face ; 
he  had  recognized  at  once  the  young  woman  who 
had  thrown  herself  upon  his  protection  at  the  house 
near  the  cross-roads.  The  grave  events  of  the  past 
few  days  had  driven  all  else  out  of  his  mind.  Un 
til  this  moment  he  had  not  given  her  a  second 
thought ;  but  Clifford  was  a  man  who  never  was 
at  loss  for  a  word.  He  was  always  at  his  ease, 
whether  dressed  in  rags  or  attired  in  purple  and 
fine  linen.  He  stepped  forward  with  his  most 
polished  manner  and  took  Marjorie  by  the  hand, 
saying :  — 

"I  give  you  my  most  earnest  wish  for  happi 
ness,  sister.  In  my  present  state  that  is  all  I  have 
to  give  you." 

There  was  an  appearance  of  shyness  and  reserve 
in  Marjorie's  manner  as  she  took  his  hand,  but  her 
bright  blue  eyes  looked  earnestly  into  his  face. 
She,  too,  recalled  vividly  how  he  had  championed 
her,  how  her  heart  had  sunk  when  he  had  ridden 
suddenly  away. 

Clifford  leaned  forward  and  kissed  her  gently 
on  the  forehead.  "  I  could  not  wish  Gordon  Clay- 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  CLAYBORNE  HORSE    387 

borne  a  prettier  or  sweeter  bride,"  he  exclaimed 
gallantly. 

"  I  am  sure  I  could  not  ask  for  a  truer  brother 
than  Clifford  Clayborne,"  she  replied.  As  she 
spoke  the  thought  of  her  own  brother  rushed  into 
her  mind ;  there  was  an  accent  of  sadness  in  the 
words  and  a  shade  of  deep  regret  settled  on  her 
face.  Gordon  saw  the  shadow,  and  with  that  clear 
insight  which  love  gives  knew  the  cause.  He  left 
his  betrothed  in  conversation  with  his  brother, 
and  stepping  into  another  path  walked  among  the 
flowers,  while  he  pondered  how  he  could  find  Fran 
cis  Ware,  and  perhaps  regenerate  him  for  the 
sister's  sake. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

THE   CLAYBORNE   BROTHERS 

STANDING  under  the  trees  upon  a  knoll  a  little 
removed  from  the  scene  of  the  great  drama,  Regina 
Bowie  viewed  the  surrender  at  Appomattox.  Hei 
dark  lashes  were  wet  with  tears  of  anger  and  pain 
as  she  saw  the  regiments  which  she  loved  so  well 
mournfully  give  up  their  arms  upon  the  field  of 
their  last  battle.  Her  heart  was  bitter  with  ab 
horrence  and  hatred  for  the  victors ;  it  was  tender 
with  pity  and  love  for  the  vanquished. 

To  her  side  came  Francis  Ware.  He  was  thin 
ner  and  paler  than  ever.  Disease  had  racked  his 
body  and  passion  was  consuming  his  soul.  Tak 
ing  from  under  his  worn  coat  a  little  packet,  he 
placed  it  in  the  young  woman's  hand. 

"  Regina,  this  is  the  flag  you  made  for  the  Clay- 
borne  Horse.  I  managed  to  secrete  it.  I  have 
kept  it  hidden  and  bring  it  back  to  you  now, 
thinking  you  would  like  to  have  it." 

Her  look  softened  as  she  took  the  blackened 
remnant. 

"  Thank  you,  Frank,  you  're  a  right  good  fellow, 
and  you  always  have  been  a  true  friend  of  mine." 
She  shook  out  the  tattered  folds  to  the  breeze,  say 
ing  with  renewed  fierceness  :  — 


THE  CLAYBORNE  BROTHERS     389 

"No,  they  shall  never  have  this.  I  will  die 
first  and  have  it  wrapped  about  me  for  a  shroud. 
They  have  set  their  iron  heel  upon  my  country ; 
they  have  ruined  that  forever  ;  they  have  crushed 
out  the  spirit  of  liberty  ;  they  have  killed  most  of 
our  best  and  bravest,  and  will  enslave  all  whom 
their  swords  have  spared,  but  I  will  never  yield  to 
them  ;  never,  never !  " 

"Regina,"  said  young  Ware  with  solicitude, 
"  do  not  work  yourself  into  such  a  frenzy.  The 
end  has  come.  Why  not  accept  the  inevitable  ?  " 

"  And  take  the  oath  of  allegiance  ?  "  she  cried. 
"  I  will  kill  myself  first !  "  and  she  struck  her 
breast  with  her  clinched  fist. 

"  Regina,  listen  to  me,"  said  Ware,  his  voice 
breaking  with  emotion.  "  I  love  you.  For  you 
I  gave  up  that  which  a  man  should  hold  dearest,  — 
his  honor.  I  do  not  regret  it,"  he  continued  hur 
riedly,  "for  I  love  you  more  than  country  or 
honor  and  all  else  in  the  world.  Become  my  wife. 
I  will  work  for  you,  slave  for  you.  I  am  young,  I 
am  strong.  Though  I  may  look  feeble  now,  I  am 
really  strong,  Regina.  Let  us  go  away  together, 
far  away  from  this  country.  Somewhere  the  world 
is  fair,  my  adored  one.  The  most  distant  land 
would  be  a  paradise  with  you  and  love.  Will  you 
not  marry  me,  now  ?  I  have  waited  so  long." 

She  stood  quietly  with  a  look  in  her  wondrous 
eyes  much  softer  and  gentler  than  had  been  there 
for  many  a  long  day. 

"  Frank,"  she  said,  speaking  slowly  in  her  low, 
sweet  tone,  "  I  do  not  love  you." 


390  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  But  you  must,  my  adored,  you  must !  "  he  cried 
feverishly.  "  Such  love  as  mine  must  kindle  some 
response  in  your  heart." 

She  shook  her  head  sadly,  saying :  — 

"  Frank,  I  'd  give  the  world  to  love  as  you  do, 
but  I  cannot." 

"  Try,"  he  cried,  seizing  her  hand ;  "  try,  that  is 
aU  I  ask." 

"  I  cannot ;  it  is  not  in  me.  Listen  to  me  now, 
Frank.  I  never  cared  for  you  as  much  as  I  do  at 
this  moment :  what  I  say  now  is  for  your  good. 
Leave  me,  Frank,  my  dear  fellow.  Leave  me,  and 
then  let  me  go  my  own  way." 

"  I  cannot,  Regina." 

"  It  is  for  your  own  good." 

"  But  where  are  you  going  ?  "  he  asked  wildly. 
"What  spot  will  you  find  whither  I  cannot  fol 
low?" 

"  I  shall  leave  this  land,"  she  cried,  striking  her 
heel  into  the  turf.  "  I  shall  go  to  Mexico,  or  to 
England,  or  France.  I  do  not  know  where,  but  I 
shall  never  take  the  oath  of  allegiance  here  to  the 
despots." 

"  May  I  not  follow  ?  I  will  follow  you,  Regina, 
wherever  you  go." 

"I  cannot  prevent  your  following  me.  I  like 
to  have  you  with  me,  but  I  tell  you  for  your  own 
good  not  to  come.  I  am  going  to  leave  you  now, 
Frank.  If  you  seek  me  out,  I  shall  not  give  you 
such  good  advice  another  time.  I  am  not  always 
so  disinterested.  Good-by,  Frank." 


THE  CLAYBORNE  BROTHERS     391 

"  I  shall  see  you  again,  Regina,"  he  replied,  put 
ting  his  lips  to  her  hand. 

"  Think  it  all  over  first,  Frank,"  she  answered, 
turning  quickly  away. 

Francis  Ware  walked  up  and  down  under  the 
trees  where  she  had  left  him ;  with  bowed  head  he 
walked  back  and  forth,  thinking  deeply. 

Benjamin  Chesterfield,  having  given  his  recalci 
trant  mule  to  a  colored  boy,  was  making  better 
progress  by  the  use  of  his  own  legs,  when  he  saw 
Regina  Bowie  ride  swiftly  away  from  a  clump  of 
trees  that  crested  a  hillock  near  at  hand.  She 
passed  near  enough  to  see  and  recognize  the  big 
correspondent,  and  as  she  went  by  she  waved  her 
hand  with  an  imperious,  half-defiant  gesture.  And 
thus  she  rode  away,  the  tears  scarcely  dry  upon 
her  cheeks,  but  with  a  look  of  pride  on  her  hand 
some  face ;  unyielding,  unsubdued,  defiant  to  the 
last. 

As  she  disappeared  from  sight,  Chesterfield's 
eye  went  back  to  the  man  she  had  left.  Ches 
terfield,  who  never  forgot  a  name  or  a  face,  was 
obliged  to  look  more  than  twice  at  the  gaunt  figure 
striding  back  and  forth  under  the  trees,  before  he- 
could  be  sure  as  to  its  identity.  He  approached 
noiselessly,  and  put  his  hand  upon  the  young 
man's  shoulder,  saying  in  his  deep,  healthful 
voice :  — 

"  Francis." 

The  latter  started  and  looked  up. 

"Good  God!     You,   Chesterfield!"  then  sud- 


392  THE  CLAYBORNES 

denly  lowering  his  eyes.  "  Don't  look  at  me,  man ! 
Don't  touch  me !  Don't  speak  to  me  !  " 

"Frank,  my  boy,  I  understand  it  all,  and  I 
shall  speak  to  you,"  replied  the  big  man  gently. 

"What  do  you  understand?"  cried  the  other 
fiercely,  looking  full  into  Chesterfield's  eyes,  his 
own  face  on  fire. 

"  About  her,  old  chap,"  replied  Chesterfield,  lay 
ing  his  hand  on  Ware's  shoulder  tenderly. 

"  Do  you  understand  that  I  am  a  disgraced  and 
ruined  man?"  replied  the  boy;  "that  if  I  am 
caught  by  the  Federals,  I  shall  be  shot  as  a  de 
serter  ?  I  am  so  changed  I  did  not  think  any  one 
would  recognize  me.  I  am  down  on  the  Confed 
erate  muster-rolls  under  another  name.  If  my 
true  name  becomes  known,  I  shall  be  sentenced  to 
die  a  miserable  death.  Oh,  Chesterfield,  what  of 
my  poor  sister  ?  What  about  my  unhappy  father  ? 
I  never  realized  it  so  fully  as  at  this  moment." 

"  I  will  not  betray  you." 

"  I  almost  wish  you  would.  I  wish  you  would 
take  your  revolver  and  shoot  me  now.  Say,  won't 
you  do  it,  Chesterfield  ?  " 

"  Frank,"  said  the  big  man  sternly,  "  control 
yourself  and  listen  to  reason." 

"  Reason !  I  abandoned  that  long  ago,"  was 
the  reply,  with  a  dry  laugh. 

"  Frank,"  said  Chesterfield  in  his  cool,  convin 
cing  way,  "  you  shall  come  with  me.  I  will  put 
you  where  you  shall  be  safe  for  the  present.  I 
know  enough  of  the  temper  of  the  country  and  of 


THE  CLAYBORNE  BROTHERS      393 

those  in  power  to  feel  sure  that  later  many  things 
will  be  overlooked.  Later,  when  blood  is  cooler, 
you  will  be  pardoned." 

"  I  deserve  no  pardon.     I  desire  none." 

"  Frank,  I  liked  you  when  I  knew  you  in  the 
early  days  of  the  war.  I  'm  not  a  man  to  change 
my  friendship  easily.  I  'm  an  older  man  than 
you,  and  I  'm  going  to  help  you  out  of  this  damned 
bad  scrape,  and  you  've  got  to  come  with  me." 

"  And  leave  her,  Chesterfield  ?    I  cannot." 

"  You  must  leave  her.  You  've  got  to  be  a  man, 
Frank." 

"  You  don't  know  what  you  ask,"  cried  Ware 
wildly.  "  You  could  n't  do  it,  Chesterfield,  if  you 
loved  as  I  do." 

"  I  do  know,"  replied  Chesterfield,  speaking  in 
a  voice  so  low  as  to  be  scarcely  audible.  "I 
once  loved  a  woman.  To  me  she  seemed  as  fair 
as  Helen  of  Troy.  She  was  as  fair  as  Helen,  as 
fickle  as  Manon  Lescaut,  as  cold-hearted  as  Bea 
trix  Esmond,  with  the  grace  and  beauty  and  wit 
and  vanity  and  deceit  of  all  the  heartless  women 
who  have  held  men  in  thrall  since  the  world  began. 
I  left  her.  It  was  bitter  at  the  time ;  but  I  did  it, 
and  you  've  got  to  take  your  medicine  too,  Frank." 

"  I  never  knew  that  of  you,  Chesterfield,"  said 
Ware,  looking  at  his  friend  with  interest. 

"  It  was  long  ago,  Frank,  when  I  was  just  about 
your  age  and  just  about  such  a  young  fool." 

"  Tell  me  more,"  said  Frank,  with  that  craving 
which  the  miserable  have  for  companionship. 


394  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"  Some  day,  perhaps,  but  not  now.  I  will  tell 
you  now  what  I  propose  to  do  at  present.  The 
war  is  over,  Frank.  I  am  a  man  who  longs  for 
excitement  and  action.  I  am  going  to  the  West. 
You  shall  come  with  me.  You  shall  live  out  under 
the  sky,  you  shall  look  up  at  the  stars  at  night. 
You  shall  ride  over  the  plains,  and  fill  your  lungs 
with  the  pure  air  of  the  mountains.  You  're  young, 
my  lad,  you  're  nothing  but  a  boy  yet.  Come 
and  be  a  man,  Frank.  Come  and  live  with  men. 
You  've  got  a  long  life  before  you.  Will  you 
come,  Frank  ?  "  He  laid  his  hand  again  on  the 
young  fellow's  arm,  speaking  with  persuasive 
charm. 

Francis  Ware  hesitated.  The  struggle  within 
him  caused  his  slight  frame  to  tremble,  but  he 
looked  into  Chesterfield's  clear  eyes,  and  an 
swered  :  — 

"  Yes,  I  '11  come,  Chesterfield." 

"  Good !  "  cried  the  correspondent.  "  And  you 
won't  weaken  later,  Frank  ?  Promise  me  on  your 
honor,  no  matter  what  happens,  you  '11  keep  your 
word  with  me." 

"  On  my  honor,  Chesterfield,  what  there  is  left 
of  it,  I  '11  go  with  you,  and  be  a  man  again." 

Chesterfield  drew  his  arm  through  that  of  young 
Ware  and  led  him  in  the  direction  of  a  distant 
house. 

"  Where  are  you  taking  me  ?  "  inquired  Ware, 
hanging  back. 

"I  am  going  to  take  you  to  that  house  which 


THE  CLAYBORNE  BROTHERS      395 

stands  back  from  the  road,  almost  hidden  by  fruit 
trees." 

The  young  man  broke  away  from  Chester 
field. 

"  Don't  take  me  where  I  shall  see  any  one  who 
knows  me.  Good  God  !  I  could  not  look  any  of 
my  old  associates  in  the  face.  I  don't  understand 
how  I  can  bear  to  see  you,  but  some  way  you  seem 
different.  And  if  you  had  shot  me,  Chesterfield, 
I  should  have  felt  almost  grateful." 

"  Frank,"  said  Chesterfield,  stopping  short  and 
looking  down  into  the  other's  face  with  an  ear 
nest  light  in  his  own  eyes,  "  I  want  you  to  trust 
me  absolutely  for  a  while.  I  want  you  to  leave 
yourself  entirely  in  my  hands,  knowing  that  I  will 
do  nothing  which  can  injure  you." 

Chesterfield  had  about  him  that  manner  of 
strong  self-reliance  and  hopefulness  which  inspires 
confidence.  Ware  hesitated  only  for  a  moment, 
then  replied  with  more  composure  than  he  had  yet 
shown :  — 

"  I  '11  trust  you,  Chesterfield,  to  the  last." 

"  Come  on,  then ! "  exclaimed  the  big  fellow 
in  his  cheeriest  voice  ;  and  as  they  walked,  he 
enlivened  the  way  by  light  conversation,  jest,  and 
anecdote,  as  if  they  were  out  for  an  afternoon 
stroll. 

As  they  drew  near  the  blossoming  garden,  Ches 
terfield  made  a  slight  detour,  which  made  them  ap 
proach  the  place  from  the  rear.  At  the  lower  end 
of  the  orchard,  screened  by  blossoming  fruit  trees, 


396  THE  CLAYBORNES 

was  an  old  summer-house  with  a  rose-bush  twining 
about  it  in  rich  profusion.  Here  Chesterfield  left 
his  charge  for  a  few  moments,  while  he  passed 
around  the  house  to  the  front.  Francis  Ware 
dropped  upon  a  seat,  and  with  his  head  supported 
by  his  hand  sat  listening  to  the  hum  of  the  insects 
among  the  flowers,  while  he  drank  in  the  rich  fra 
grance  of  the  spring.  The  moral  support  of  Ches 
terfield's  strong  presence  temporarily  withdrawn, 
the  reaction  set  in.  Ware  felt  himself  grow  weak 
and  dizzy,  his  heart  beat  with  an  irregular  throb, 
his  head  sank  lower  upon  his  breast. 

Thus  Marjorie  found  him  as  she  entered  hurriedly 
through  the  roses.  He  sprang  to  his  feet.  With 
a  glad  cry  like  that  of  a  mother  when  she  regains 
a  wayward  child,  Marjorie  threw  her  arms  about 
him,  drawing  his  head  down  to  her  bosom  to  kiss 
him,  with  that  great  love,  that  tenderness  and  en 
tire  forgiveness  which  are  found  only  in  a  woman's 
heart. 

Finally  Frank  Ware  arose  from  where  he  had 
been  seated  for  some  time  in  silence,  with  his  sis 
ter's  little  hand  in  his,  and  speaking  with  more  of 
his  old  spirit  said :  - 

"  Chesterfield  is  the  grandest  man  alive,  little 
sister." 

She  looked  into  his  face  with  a  radiant  smile. 
In  her  present  state  of  happiness  she  would  not 
gainsay  him,  although  in  her  heart  she  knew  there 
was  a  still  grander  man.  Besides,  she  was  not 
thinking  so  much  of  what  he  said  as  of  the  fact 


THE  CLAYBORNE  BROTHERS      397 

that  he,  her  brother,  who  had  been  dead,  was  now 
standing  there  before  her.  Very  changed  he  was, 
but  she  could  see  the  Frank  of  old  in  his  brown 
eyes.  She  wanted  to  take  him  to  her  heart  and 
nurse  him  back  to  renewed  life  and  strength. 

"  Where  is  he  now  ?  "  inquired  Ware. 

"  Who,  Gordon  ?  "  she  asked  innocently. 

"  No,  Chesterfield,  of  course." 

"  He  is  in  the  front  of  the  house  with  Mr. 
Clayborne.  Shall  I  ask  them  to  come  to  you, 
dear?" 

"No,  only  Chesterfield.  I  want  to  see  him,  for 
we  must  go." 

"  Are  you  going  away  ?  Are  you  not  going  to 
see  father?  Have  you  not  come  to  stay?  Oh, 
Frank,  do  not  go,"  and  she  threw  her  arms  about 
him  protectingly,  as  if  she  feared  for  his  safety. 

"  I  cannot  see  any  one  but  Chesterfield.  I  must 
go  away,  my  dear.  I  cannot  see  father  yet." 

"  Oh,  Frank  !  "  she  exclaimed  imploringly,  hold 
ing  him  fast  in  her  arms. 

"  Do  not  fear,  I  shall  not  go  back  to  her.  I 
am  going  away  with  Chesterfield.  I  will  see  you 
again,  my  dear  sister." 

She  left  him  and  returned  with  Chesterfield, 
who  if  not  the  grandest  man  alive  in  her  eyes, 
stood  very  high  in  her  affection  now. 

Francis  Ware  gave  his  sister  a  parting  embrace, 
she  spoke  a  few  words  of  tender  solicitude,  and 
then  he  left  her  and  went  away  as  he  had  come, 
with  the  big-hearted  Chesterfield  towering  above 


398  THE  CLAYBORNES 

him.  As  Frank  walked  he  drew  himself  up,  and 
already  looked  more  like  the  man  he  was  to 
be. 

Marjorie  watched  the  two  men  until  they  passed 
out  of  sight,  then  waited  until  the  tears  were  dry 
in  her  eyes  before  she  rejoined  the  man  who  to 
her  was  the  grandest  of  them  all. 

Gordon  Clayborne  was  standing  by  the  gate  to 
say  a  parting  word  to  his  brother.  Clifford,  on 
the  other  side,  held  Gordon  by  the  hand.  He  was 
going  back  to  his  own  men  and  with  them  to  ful 
fill  the  conditions  of  the  parole. 

Marjorie  stood  a  little  distance  off  and  looked 
at  the  two  brothers.  Tall,  graceful,  soldierly  they 
were,  with  the  proud  bearing  of  true  gentlemen. 
In  front  of  the  house,  high  above  their  heads,  its 
glorious  colors  sparkling  in  the  sun,  flew  the 
American  flag. 

"  Gordon,"  said  Clifford,  his  voice  deep  with 
emotion,  "  I  love  the  cause  I  have  fought  for. 
The  flag  of  Virginia,  God  bless  her,  is  dearer  to 
me  at  this  moment  than  on  the  day  when  we  first 
flung  it  to  the  breeze  in  defiance  of  the  North. 
But  we  have  been  fairly  beaten.  The  flag  which 
is  flying  above  us  both  as  we  stand  here  is  my  flag 
also,  and  there 's  not  a  man  in  this  country  who 
will  be  more  true  to  the  stars  and  stripes  than  I." 

"  Clifford,  my  brother,"  replied  the  elder,  "  we 
are  both  Americans,  and  I  thank  God ;  and  the 
day  will  come  when  every  brave  man  who  fought 
against  it  will  from  the  depth  of  his  heart  thank 


THE  CLAYBORNE  BROTHERS      399 

God  that  the  old  flag  flies  over  one  country,  our 
country,  Clifford." 

Thus  for  a  moment  they  separated,  and  with 
a  look  of  warm  affection  in  his  eyes  Gordon 
watched  Clifford  as  he  rode  off  on  his  black  horse, 
as  true-hearted  a  knight  as  ever  held  a  sword. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

A    THIRD    OF   A    CENTURY    LATER 

THIRTY-THREE  years  have  passed  since  the  Clay- 
borne  Horse  rode  their  last  charge.  The  scene 
has  changed  from  the  scars  of  a  battlefield  to  the 
productive  land  of  a  western  ranch,  from  the 
destruction  of  war  to  the  fecundity  of  peace.  Sur 
rounded  by  broad  and  fruitful  acres  stands  a  large 
house  whose  wide  doors  and  porches  betoken  the 
open-handed  hospitality  of  the  country. 

In  front  of  this  generous  mansion,  upon  a  tall 
staff,  its  brilliant  colors  made  more  glorious  by  the 
rays  of  the  western  sun,  flies  the  national  flag. 

This  is  the  home  of  Francis  Ware,  who  has 
become  a  man  of  substance,  with  a  wife  and  a 
flourishing  family,  which  has  grown  up  to  sturdy 
manhood. 

Another  war  has  been  fought,  in  which  the  sons 
of  the  Puritan  Ware  and  the  sons  of  the  Clay- 
borne  Cavaliers  have  marched  shoulder  to  shoulder, 
and  fought  side  by  side,  under  the  flag  of  a  united 
country.  And  now,  with  the  restoration  of  peace, 
the  families  of  Clayborne  and  of  Ware  have  come 
together  in  reunion  to  celebrate  a  national  holiday. 
Around  Francis  Ware's  generous  board  they  make 


A  THIRD   OF  A  CENTURY  LATER        401 

no  mean  show  of  numbers,  for  their  families  have 
increased  liberally  in  these  thirty  years. 

Seated  in  the  place  of  honor"  is  Benjamin  Ches 
terfield,  white  haired  and  white  bearded,  but  carry 
ing  his  threescore  and  ten  years  upon  his  broad 
shoulders  unbendingly  ;  his  voice  just  as  deep  and 
his  handshake  as  hearty  as  when  he  was  a  corre 
spondent  at  the  front,  a  third  of  a  century  ago. 
He  has  been  many  times  around  the  world  since 
then,  and  rubbed  shoulders  with  all  sorts  of  men  in 
every  land ;  and  the  big  heart  beats  just  as  warmly 
for  his  fellowmen  as  it  did  in  the  old  war  days. 

To-day  there  is  even  a  warmer  glow  in  old  Ben 
Chesterfield's  heart  as  he  looks  at  those  about  him. 

There  are  Gordon  and  Clifford  Clayborne,  vet 
erans  of  two  wars,  joking  and  laughing  together, 
with  the  spirit  of  the  youngest  at  the  table.  Clif 
ford  Clayborne's  hair  is  still  dark  and  curly.  He 
looks  like  his  father,  the  old  colonel,  whose  bones 
have  long  laid  at  rest  with  those  of  his  comrades 
of  the  old  war  times.  Clifford  is  the  same  gallant, 
vivacious  spirit  he  has  been  since  boyhood.  His 
knight-errant  heart,  after  breaking  many  a  lance 
with  Cupid  in  the  tilt-yard  of  love,  finally  capitu 
lated  to  the  charms  of  a  young  woman  described 
by  her  fair  rivals  as  a  "  plain  but  sensible  girl," 
but  whom  Clifford  stoutly  maintained  was  the  fair 
est  of  them  all.  And  as  he  believes  the  same  to 
day,  it  can  be  safely  argued  that,  contrary  to  the 
prediction  of  his  friends,  he  has  proved  a  devoted 
and  a  faithful  husband. 


402  THE  CLAYBORNES 

Gordon  Clayborne  has  served  in  the  army  for  a 
third  of  a  century.  The  vocation  of  a  soldier  is 
an  arduous  one  ;  it  rarely  lies  in  a  bed  of  roses, 
and  does  not  always  lead  by  a  path  of  incessant 
glory.  Gordon  Clayborne  has  won  honorable  dis 
tinction  in  his  career ;  he  has  earned  the  shoulder- 
straps  of  a  general,  and  the  right  to  retire  and 
spend  the  remainder  of  his  days  in  ease,  which  is 
not  inglorious  after  a  life  of  activity  and  strife. 

These  thirty  years  have  changed  Marjorie  Clay- 
borne's  hair  from  golden-brown  to  soft  gray,  but 
the  delicate  color  still  comes  to  her  cheeks,  and 
her  blue  eyes  shine  brightly.  Youth  cannot  lay 
claim  to  all  the  comeliness  in  the  world.  There  is 
a  loveliness  that  comes  to  age,  where  the  spirit  is 
young  and  the  mind  serene,  which  frequently  tran 
scends  the  more  vivid  beauty  of  youth. 

"  Ben  Chesterfield,  here  's  a  toast,"  called  Gor 
don  Clayborne  in  a  hearty  tone. 

The  cloth  had  been  removed,  the  glasses  filled, 
and  with  one  accord  all  rose  to  their  feet  as  Gen 
eral  Clayborne  spoke.  Chesterfield's  bright  gray 
eyes  made  the  circuit  of  the  table,  his  gaze  resting 
with  particular  sympathy  and  affection  upon  the 
younger  generation.  His  stout  old  heart  beat  with 
pride  as  he  looked  upon  their  fine,  clear-cut  faces, 
radiant  with  life  and  health,  the  best  product  of 
American  manhood  and  womanhood  —  the  men 
hardy  and  muscular,  the  girls  almost  as  tall  as  the 
men,  and  fully  as  self-reliant,  their  independence 
of  spirit  and  the  graceful  freedom  of  their  move- 


A  THIRD  OF  A  CENTURY  LATER        403 

ments  detracting  not  a  whit  from  their  womanly 
charm. 

General  Clayborne,  the  ardent  fire  of  patriotism 
lighting  up  his  face,  gave  the  toast :  — 

"  To  our  country !  " 

It  was  drunk  with  fervor ;  then  a  burst  of  cheers 
shook  the  great  rafters  of  the  house. 

"  America  may  well  be  proud  of  such  children," 
said  old  Chesterfield  to  himself  earnestly.  "  My 
dear  friends,"  he  said  aloud,  as  soon  as  he  could 
make  himself  heard  above  the  noise,  "  the  love  of 
country  is  one  of  the  noblest  of  human  sentiments, 
and  your  vigorous  young  lungs  have  already  be 
spoke  your  patriotism." 

"  You  're  right  there,  Uncle  Ben,  we  can  lick 
any  other  country  on  the  face  of  the  earth !  "  piped 
in  a  diminutive  scion  of  the  third  generation,  who 
had  insisted  on  coming  to  the  feast  accoutred  from 
head  to  foot  in  his  new  rough-rider's  costume,  and 
who  never  hesitated  to  offer  his  comments  upon 
the  topic  of  the  moment. 

Chesterfield  smiled  affectionately  upon  the  small 
interloper. 

"  Yes,"  he  continued,  "  every  one  of  you  should 
believe  that  our  country  is  the  strongest,  the  rich 
est,  the  greatest  in  the  world.  I  believe  it,  and  I 
always  shall." 

"  Three  cheers  for  Uncle  Ben  Chesterfield !  " 
cried  one  of  the  young  men,  and  again  the  rafters 
rang. 

"Your  fathers  and  I  have  had  our  day,"  con 
tinued  the  veteran  newspaper  man. 


404  THE  CLAYBORNES 

"No,  no!"  cried  a  dozen  voices,  "  you 're  still 
as  young  as  any  of  us." 

"  We  are  in  spirit,  but  we  have  done  our  work. 
We  have  struggled  with  the  problems  of  our  day ; 
whether  success  or  failure  has  been  ours  we  have 
done  our  best,  and  we  now  leave  other  and  greater 
problems  for  you  to  solve.  The  country  is  now  in 
the  hands  of  a  younger  generation.  You,  with  the 
bone  and  sinew,  with  the  spirit  and  enthusiasm  of 
youth,  must  hold  the  reins.  If  this  country  is  the 
most  favored  under  God's  sun,  so  much  the  greater 
is  your  responsibility. 

"  My  dear  friends,"  continued  Chesterfield  ear 
nestly  and  with  emotion,  a  note  of  prophecy 
sounding  in  his  voice,  "the  destiny  of  nations 
has  called  our  country  to  the  front ;  for  many 
years  to  come  the  history  of  America  is  to  be 
the  history  of  the  world.  May  she  make  that 
history  worthy  of  her  name !  May  she  be  great, 
not  alone  in  commercial  supremacy  and  foreign 
conquest,  but  in  the  supremacy  of  great  thoughts, 
high  ideals,  and  noble  deeds,  that  the  torch  of  Lib 
erty  may  in  truth  light  the  whole  world !  May  each 
one  of  you  in  the  depth  of  his  heart  resolve  to  do 
his  utmost  to  make  his  country  worthy  of  its  place 
among  the  nations  of  the  world!  This  is  the 
trust  which  accompanies  your  inheritance.  The 
richest  heritage  a  man  can  have  is  a  birthright 
in  this  republic.  A  grander  patent  of  nobility 
than  any  the  old  world  can  bestow  is  conveyed  in 
the  five  words,  '  I  AM  AN  AMERICAN  CITIZEN.'  " 


£tu-  OilHTSibf  pn-ss 

EUctrotyped  and  printed  by  H.  O.  Hovghton  &  C<* 
Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.S.  A. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACI 


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